Poems (Argent)/The Street Singer

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THE STREET SINGER.
DAY was dying in the city, And the stars were shining brightFar across the dappled heavens Into shades of deepest night.
Down a crowded street, where houses, Blacken'd by the smoke of years,Stood in sombre shadows, bearing Semblance to life's grief and tears,
Sang a maid in tatter'd garments, With a voice so sweet and low;Half in sadness, half in gladness, Came those echoes faint and slow.
As the stately swan when dying Breathes a long, a wild refrain,So this maiden sang in gushes, Taking captive heart and brain.
"Auld Lang Syne" upon the breezes Floated on the wings of night;Up above the skies it mounted Far beyond the azure height.**** ​When the morn with rosy fingers Broke upon the earth and sea,Gilding in his orient splendour All things in his majesty.
On a doorstep long he linger'd, Where two wistful eyes and faceMet his gaze and made him wonder, Seeing sleep in death's embrace!
There she lay, the beggar maiden, Never more to charm the day:With that voice of hers so tender She had sung her soul away.

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