Macdougal Street

As I went walking up and down to take the evening air,

( Sweet to meet upon the street, why must I be so shy? )

I saw him lay his hand upon her torn black hair;

( “Little dirty Latin child, let the lady by!” )

The women squatting on the stoops were slovenly and fat,

( Lay me out in organdie, lay me out in lawn! )

And everywhere I stepped there was a baby or a cat;

( Lord God in Heaven, will it never be dawn? )

The fruit-carts and clam-carts were ribald as a fair,

( Pink nets and wet shells trodden under heel )

She had haggled from the fruit-man of his rotting ware;

( I shall never get to sleep, the way I feel! )

He walked like a king through the filth and the clutter,

( Sweet to meet upon the street, why did you glance me by? )

But he caught the quaint Italian quip she flung him from the gutter;

( What can there be to cry about that I should lie and cry? )

He laid his darling hand upon her little black head,

( I wish I were a ragged child with ear-rings in my ears! )

And he said she was a baggage to have said what she had said;

( Truly I shall be ill unless I stop these tears! )