by Henry F. Chorley
Originally published in Howitt's Journal (William Lovett) vol.1 #12 (20 Mar 1847).
II.—The Italian Street Singer.
She wanders on singing: in age but a child;
Her look that was blithesome, is now only wild;
There's want on her cheek, on her forehead is care,
And deep in her voice is a tone of despair.
For learned was her song in a far distant scene,
To the rapturous sound of the gay tambourine;
In a pause of the festa, 'twixt laughter and vow—
And rude ones, and callous ones call for it now!
O ye! whose blithe May-time no blighting hath known,
Be kind to the weary one, far from her own!
She wanders on singing—a tear in her eye
Is clouding it o'er, till she sees not the sky;
But little she heeds;—for the tune of her lay
To Italy's sunshine hath borne her away.
O blue are the waters that melt on the shore!
And joyous the terrace with vines covered o'er;
—And she starts from the scene that before her is spread,
To sing in strange city for morsel of bread!
O ye! who yourselves are all friendless and lone,
Be kind to the weary one far from her own!