Behind heaped fruits in a jumbled row Stand Josephine, Angeline, Antonio, Maria, Raphael, Mimi small, And tiny bambino -- a luscious stall -- Dazzling, gay, Neapolitan -- Children of Tony, the market man. Their skins are touched with the same warm gold That gilded the oranges; their curls hold The purple sheen of grapes that grow In Italy's vineyards; their lips glow Vivid as ripe pomegranites do; And the veins on their temples are lapis blue As the sky at Naples is in spring -- The look of them's a singing thing -- Their speech is music -- hush, a breeze Stirs distant dark-leaved olive trees, And boatmen's songs drift off the Bay, Lilting, lovely, far away -- Warmth and laughter, melody, Color, romance -- Italy! Their @3names@1 are a poem: Josephine, Maria, Raphael, Angeline -- |