The Broken Engagement, Page 3 Of 4 Poem by John Bliven Morin

In Paris, I quickly settled my
Business, so had time
To spend with Mary. 'I'm
Taking you to dinner
My dearest Fairy Queen,
And we shall have
The finest French cuisine
At that cafe you love! '
As we were sitting there,
After our repast,
Relaxing in our chairs,
Something caught my eye.
An elderly couple came
Into the cafe and sat
So close I heard a name
I hadn't heard in years.
Then, in shock, I realized
The woman was my love
Of long ago; those eyes
Were so familiar.
Excusing myself to Mary,
I stood and approached
The nearby table, wary
I might be wrong.

'M'sieur, Madame, me pardonner,
Vous semblez familier à moi;
Nous n'avons pas rencontré?
Pardonner mon français brut.'
'Vat iss he zayink? Shpeak
Hup! I cannot hear! '
Said the old man, whose beak
Twitched as he spoke.
The woman turned with malice
In her eyes to see who
Was interrupting. It was Alice,
My long-ago fiancee
'Walter! My god, it's you! '
She nearly upset her chair;
I replied, 'How do you do? '
She had aged terribly.