Classic Poem

I, C YRANO DE B ERGERAC ,
Can have nor sleep, nor peace, alack!
In my poor semblance now they rage,
And fiercely strut upon the stage.
The actors are a worthy crew,—
Coquelin and Irving, Mansfield too.
I bid them all go hang and pack,—
I, Cyrano de Bergerac.

I, Cyrano de Bergerac,
The mimic world upon my track,
Ah, rare Roxane, before all men
We are impaled on Rostand's pen.
Once every tumult filled my breast,
And now they will not let me rest,
But I am dragged, unwilling, back,—
I, Cyrano de Bergerac.