I weave regretful tribute to their jovial social times;
For autumn gales of life have blown those festal hours asunder,
And scattered far by land and sea, the steps of many a one,
And some alas! beneath the sod, for evermore gone under,
Have left a rainbow thro' the mist of grief that they have won.
But slantha! to the hearts, and hands, of those who yet remaining,
Do carry down traditions of that bright Bohemian throng,
And slantha! to the soulful sheen, of life-light never waning
From Old Eblana's heaven of her social art, and song.
And here's to all Bohemians, of whatever rank, or station,