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| YOU say New York is lovelier than ever? | |
| Ah, is it still the city that I knew? | |
| Is it still … tell me first, though, did you never | |
| Dine at that restaurant I sent you to? | |
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| You know—the little one that artists know of; | 5 |
| The one you never find without a guide; | |
| The one where no one ever makes a show of | |
| His worldly wealth, or puts on any “side.” | |
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| Much chance there was indeed of our dissembling, | |
| With those wild Indians there to squelch all sham! | 10 |
| Why, not one of us had a thing resembling | |
| (Even remotely) wealth—nor cared a damn! | |
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| You say you missed it? never once you dined there? | |
| I’m sorry! But perhaps you’d not have seen | |
| The glamour that we fellows used to find there; | 15 |
| It might have bored you—though I’m sure ’twas clean! | |
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| Not that that mattered! We were young and healthy, | |
| And breakfast, luncheons, never cost us much; | |
| At night, with a half-dollar, we were wealthy, | |
| And dined there ravenously—always “dutch.” | 20 |
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| Hesternæ rosæ! Yes, my Latin’s scrappy; | |
| I’m not quite certain that it’s apropos; | |
| But still those yesterdays were, oh, so happy, | |
| And nights like those are wonderful to know! | |
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| I’ll try to show you … This is how you find it, | 25 |
| This restaurant we called “The Hopeful Heart”— | |
| A silly title; but you mustn’t mind it, | |
| We were all youngsters then, and mad on Art— | |
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| You leave the Avenue just where the church’s | |
| Calm finger points up to the summer stars, | 30 |
| And so go down the cross street till your search is | |
| Ended when you hear some lilting bars | |
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| Of music—some warm tenor voice is singing | |
| That old berceuse from “Jocelyn” … then a laugh! | |
| That’s Alan, bless him! Now his arm he’s flinging | 35 |
| Around your shoulder and life’s gained a half! | |
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| He’s waited to surprise you—has some matter, | |
| Some harebrained scheme, to tell to you alone; | |
| Then down the three stone steps you two will clatter, | |
| And all the worries of your day have flown! | 40 |
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| See! there’s “The Señor,” plump and rosy; meets you | |
| And smiles his “Messieurs” as you troop on through | |
| The kitchen, where the steam of cooking greets you, | |
| And reach the tiny yard, and join the crew! | |
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| You never went there? Well, you might have wondered | 45 |
| At what we found to make us like the place: | |
| It wasn’t much to see; sometimes they blundered, | |
| And served us meals that merited no grace; | |
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| The tableware was cracked, the forks were greasy, | |
| They charged fantastic sums for their cigars; | 50 |
| But still the waiters always smiled their “Si, si.” | |
| And it was pleasant, underneath the stars. | |
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| Perhaps it wasn’t all my fancy painted: | |
| I only know that something seemed to give | |
| The simplest speech a magic unacquainted, | 55 |
| And all our words (of course) were bound to live! | |
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| What was its secret? I can not explain it. | |
| You missed it? Then you’ve only life’s flat lees! | |
| Perhaps to go back would be to profane it, | |
| But, oh, how gay it was! What prophecies! | 60 |
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