As I went walking up and down to take the evening air,
( Sweet to meet upon the street, why must I be so shy? )
I saw him lay his hand upon her torn black hair;
( “Little dirty Latin child, let the lady by!” )
The women squatting on the stoops were slovenly and fat,
( Lay me out in organdie, lay me out in lawn! )
And everywhere I stepped there was a baby or a cat;
( Lord God in Heaven, will it never be dawn? )
The fruit-carts and clam-carts were ribald as a fair,
( Pink nets and wet shells trodden under heel )
She had haggled from the fruit-man of his rotting ware;
( I shall never get to sleep, the way I feel! )
He walked like a king through the filth and the clutter,
( Sweet to meet upon the street, why did you glance me by? )
But he caught the quaint Italian quip she flung him from the gutter;
( What can there be to cry about that I should lie and cry? )
He laid his darling hand upon her little black head,
( I wish I were a ragged child with ear-rings in my ears! )
And he said she was a baggage to have said what she had said;
( Truly I shall be ill unless I stop these tears! )