She sings a pious ballad wearily; Her shivering body creeps on painful feet Along the muddy runlets of the street; The damp is in her throat: she coughs to free The cracked and husky notes that tear her chest; From side to side she looks with eyes that grope, Feverishly hungering in a hopeless hope, For pence that will not come; and pence mean rest, The rest that pain may steal at night from sleep, The rest that hunger gives when satisfied; Her fingers twitch to handle them; she sings Shriller; her eyes, too hot with tears to weep, Fasten upon a window, where, inside, A sweet voice mocks her with its carollings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 74. ST. LUKE THE PAINTER (OLD & NEW ART) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 45. A LITTLE WHILE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SONNET: 4 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THIRTEEN AT TABLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THERE HE GOES by BERTON BRALEY THE LAND OF DREAMS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |