Читать книгу Second Book of Verse - Field Eugene - Страница 5

IN Oberhausen, on a time,

I fared as might a king;

And now I feel the muse sublime

Inspire me to embalm in rhyme

That succulent and sapid thing

Behight of gentile and of Jew

A gosling stew!

The good Herr Schmitz brought out his best, —

Soup, cutlet, salad, roast, —

And I partook with hearty zest,

And fervently anon I blessed

That generous and benignant host,

When suddenly dawned on my view

A gosling stew!

I sniffed it coming on apace,

And as its odors filled

The curious little dining-place,

I felt a glow suffuse my face,

I felt my very marrow thrilled

With rapture altogether new, —

'Twas gosling stew!

These callow birds had never played

In yonder village pond;

Had never through the gateway strayed,

And plaintive spissant music made

Upon the grassy green beyond:

Cooped up, they simply ate and grew

For gosling stew!

My doctor said I mustn't eat

High food and seasoned game;

But surely gosling is a meat

With tender nourishment replete.

Leastwise I gayly ate this same;

I braved dyspepsy – wouldn't you

For gosling stew?

I've feasted where the possums grow,

Roast turkey have I tried,

The joys of canvasbacks I know,

And frequently I've eaten crow

In bleak and chill Novembertide;

I'd barter all that native crew

For gosling stew!

And when from Rhineland I adjourn

To seek my Yankee shore,

Back shall my memory often turn,

And fiercely shall my palate burn

For sweets I'll taste, alas! no more, —

Oh, that mein kleine frau could brew

A gosling stew!

Vain are these keen regrets of mine,

And vain the song I sing;

Yet would I quaff a stoup of wine

To Oberhausen auf der Rhine,

Where fared I like a very king:

And here's a last and fond adieu

To gosling stew!