I

I HEARD last night a little child go singing

'Neath Casa Guidi windows, by the church,

"O bella libertà, O bella!" stringing

The same words still on notes he went in search

So high for, you concluded the upspringing

Of such a nimble bird to sky from perch

Must leave the whole bush in a tremble green;

And that the heart of Italy must beat,

While such a voice had leave to rise serene

Twixt church and palace of a Florence street!—

A little child, too, who not long had been

By mother's finger steadied on his feet;

And still O bella libertà he sang.