| |
| HANDSOME Naples girl! | |
| With the distaff in your hand, | |
| Whose silver flax threads curl | |
| Like the white waves on the sand; | |
| In this narrow, dingy street, | 5 |
| On the dark and steep hillside, | |
| In this hovel, can such sweet | |
| And romantic beauty hide? | |
| |
| Spinning through the sunny day, | |
| Underneath the old church-tower, | 10 |
| The waves of Naples Bay | |
| Have not nursed a fairer flower. | |
| You will ne’er that bay forget | |
| Wheresoe’er you may be borne; | |
| It sparkles in your eye of jet, | 15 |
| Its pride is in your scorn. | |
| |
| Singing down the narrow street, | |
| In the sultry, silent hours, | |
| Unconsciously your naked feet | |
| Tread on shells and withered flowers: | 20 |
| Every day the picture fair, | |
| For which distant poets sigh, | |
| Is drawn upon the summer air, | |
| Before your careless eye. | |
| |
| And you watch the sails that bask | 25 |
| In the sunshine, as they go, | |
| But your fancy will not ask | |
| Of your future’s weal or woe, | |
| More than of the distant port | |
| To which drift those fading sails, | 30 |
| Or if the voyage be long or short, | |
| Or calm, or vexed with gales. | |
| |
| Handsome Naples girl! | |
| In the dark street high and lone, | |
| While the waves below you sweep and curl, | 35 |
| You shall be wooed and won. | |
| In long tribes of fishermen, | |
| Shall float on Naples bay | |
| The blood that crimsons the brown cheek | |
| I look upon to-day. | 40 |
| |
