'Tis a quiet little by-way, Steep and rugged as Parnassus, Leading from the noisy highway Filled with Carbonari asses. Lofty houses lean above it, Whispering like neighbors canny; Still in memory I love it— Dingy Strada San Giovanni. Shrined in niches on the corners, Saints and martyrs smile down grimly On the unbelieving scorners Stalking through the twilight dimly, Going no one knoweth whither, By the Casa Frangipani Where the votive flowers wither In old Strada San Giovanni. When the summer days were weary With the breathings of Sirocco, Blowing with persistence dreary, Red and sultry from Morocco, Pleasant was that shady alley, When there were not passers many, Like an ancient cliff-walled valley— Lonely Strada San Giovanni. With her cushion, making laces, Deftly working like a fairy, Fairest of the island graces, Little Anna Camelleri Sat upon her doorstep singing, Giving little heed to any; To and fro her bobbins flinging In old Strada San Giovanni. Gentle, dark-eyed little maiden— Dream of unforgotten pleasure— With her tresses, coin o'erladen, All her dowry and her treasure. Long ago!—While multiplying Shadows gather thick and many, Still a sunbeam, time-defying, Shines in Strada San Giovanni. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: YEE BOW by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PAST AND PRESENT by ROWLAND EYLES EGERTON-WARBURTON THE HUMBLE-BEE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON SONNET: 106 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THIS WAY FOR ROMANCE by BERTON BRALEY AN OFFERING by ANNE MILLAY BREMER A TIME by ETHEL CORNELL CHAMBERS |