Classic Poem

Monsieur the Cure down the street
Comes with his kind old face, —
With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair,
And his green umbrella-case.

You may see him pass by the little "Grande Place" ,
And the tiny "Hotel-de-Ville" ;
He smiles, as he goes, to the fleuriste Rose,
And the pompier Theophile.

He turns, as a rule, through the "Marche" " cool,
Where the noisy fish-wives call;
And his compliment pays to the "Belle Therese" ,
As she knits in her dusky stall.

There's a letter to drop at the locksmith's shop,
And Toto, the locksmith's niece,
Has jubilant hopes, for the Cure gropes
In his tails for a pain d'epice.

There's a little dispute with a merchant of fruit,
Who is said to be heterodox,
That will ended be with a "Ma foi, oui!"
And a pinch from the Cure's box.

There is also a word that no one heard
To the furrier's daughter Lou.;
And a pale cheek fed with a flickering red,
And a "Bon Dieu garde M'sieu'!"

But a grander way for the Sous-Prefet ,
And a bow for Ma'am'selle Anne;
And a mock " off-hat " to the Notary's cat,
And a nod to the Sacristan.

For ever through life the Cure goes
With a smile on his kind old face —
With his coat worn bare, and his straggling hair,
And his green umbrella-case.