Vienna

I can remember the Hapsburg court

And the German forest near the fort

That stood beyond Bohemian lines,

Thirty years' fighting between the pines ...

I once knew Mozart; I once knew Strauss

I once met them in a coffeehouse

And held a symphony in my cup,

Watched a waltz when the steam rose up.

There was always music, always love,

The spicy scent of his left-hand glove,

The epaulets of his martial guise,

Or laughing glance of his dusky eyes.

Now there is java and college books

And hiding away in cafe nooks.

Snow is falling, Austria calling;

Here I am dreamily recalling.

But there will be another time

When I hear the church bell's chime.

The Blue Danube will start to play,

And my officer will come this way.

I once read Viennese coffeehouses are just like Parisian ones, though brainier. Of course, when you visit Vienna you must absolutely spend a few hours in a cafe. They are totally different from Starbucks. They serve you fresh-baked bread and these killer pastries. You go to think and contemplate. This poem is about a history student gone to remember the past glories of Austria over a cup of java. I rather like this poem, but then again I have not gone to Vienna; so I could be way off.