(_To a Friendly Adviser._)
[Illustration]
When starting off on foreign trips,
I've felt secure if someone gave me
Invaluable hints and tips;
Time, trouble, money, these would save me.
I'm off; you've told me all you know.
Forewarned, forearmed, I start, instructed
How much to spend, and where to go;
Yet free, not like some folks "conducted."
Now I shall face, serene and calm,
Those persons, often rather pressing
For little gifts, with outstretched palm.
To some of them I'll give my blessing.
To others--"_service_" being paid--
_Buona mano, pourboire, trinkgeld_;
They fancy Englishmen are made
Of money, made of (so they think) _geld_.
The _garçon_, ready with each dish,
His brisk "_Voilà, monsieur_" replying
To anything that one may wish;
His claim admits of no denying.
The _portier_, who never rests,
Who speaks six languages together
To clamorous, inquiring guests,
On letters, luggage, trains, boats, weather.
The _femme de chambre_, who fills my _bain_;
The _ouvreuse_, where I see the _acteur_,
A cigarette to _chef de train_,
A franc to energetic _facteur_.
I give each _cocher_ what is right;
I know, without profound researches,
What I must pay for each new sight--
Cathedrals, castles, convents, churches.
Or climbing up to see a view,
From _campanile_, roof or steeple.
Those verbal tips I had from you
Save money tips to other people.
Save all those florins, marks or francs--
Or _pfennige_, _sous_, _kreutzer_, is it?--
The change they give me at the banks,
According to the towns I visit.
I seem to owe you these, and yet
Will money do? My feeling's deeper.
I'll owe you an eternal debt--
A debt of gratitude, that's cheaper.
* * * * *