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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ballad of Bouillabaisse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A street there is in Paris famous, <br>For which no rhyme our language yields, <br>Rue Neuve de petits Champs its name is - <br>The New Street of the Little Fields; <br>And there's an inn, not rich and splendid, <br>But still in comfortable case; <br>The which in youth I oft attended, <br>To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is - <br>A sort of soup, or broth, or brew, <br>Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, <br>That Greenwich never could outdo; <br>Green herbs, red peppers, muscles, saffern, <br>Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace; <br>All these you eat at Terré's tavern, <br>In that one dish of Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Indeed, a rich and savory stew 'tis; <br>And true philosophers, methinks, <br>Who love all sorts of natural beauties, <br>Should love good victuals and good drinks. <br>And Cordelier or Benedictine <br>Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace, <br>Nor find a fast-day too afflicting, <br>Which served him up a Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I wonder if the house still there is? <br>Yes, here the lamp is as before; <br>The smiling, red-cheek'd écaillère is <br>Still opening oysters at the door. <br>Is Terré still alive and able? <br>I recollect his droll grimace; <br>He'd come and smile before your table, <br>And hoped you like your Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We enter; nothing's changed or older. <br>'How's Monsieur Terré, waiter, pray?' <br>The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder - <br>'Monsieur is dead this many a day.' <br>'It is the lot of saint and sinner. <br>So honest Terré's run his race!' <br>'What will Monsieur require for dinner?' <br>'Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse?' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Oh, oui, Monsieur,' 's the waiter's answer; <br>'Quel vin Monsieur désire-t-il ?' <br>Tell me a good one.' 'That I can, sir; <br>The Chambertin with yellow seal.' <br>'So Terré's gone,' I say, and sink in <br>My old accustom'd corner-place; <br>'He's done with feasting and with drinking, <br>With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My old accustom'd corner here is- <br>The table still is in the nook; <br>Ah! vanished many a busy year is, <br>This well-known chair since last I took. <br>When first I saw ye, cari luoghi, <br>I'd scarce a beard upon my face, <br>And now a grizzled, grim old fogy, <br>I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Where are you, old companions trusty <br>Of early days, here met to dine? <br>Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty - <br>I'll pledge them in the good old wine. <br>The kind old voices and old faces <br>My memory can quick retrace; <br>Around the board they take their places, <br>And share the wine and Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage; <br>There's laughing Tom is laughing yet; <br>There's brave Augustus drives his carriage; <br>There's poor old Fred in the Gazette; <br>On James's head the grass is growing: <br>Good Lord! the world has wagged apace <br>Since here we sat the Claret flowing, <br>And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ah me! how quick the days are flitting! <br>I mind me of a time that's gone, <br>When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, <br>In this same place-but not alone. <br>A fair young form was nestled near me, <br>A dear, dear face looked fondly up, <br>And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me. <br>- There's no one now to share my cup. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">. . . . . . . . </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=538732" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I drink it as the Fates ordain it. <br>Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes; <br>Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it <br>In memory of dear old times. <br>Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is; <br>And sit you down and say your grace <br>With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is. <br>Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Makepeace+Thackeray">William Makepeace Thackeray</a></strong></div>