When for a buonamano <br />Cometh, at break of day, <br />Knock at the terzo piano, <br />A little voice answers, Chi è? <br />``I, the facchino, awaiting <br />The bounty of cara lei.'' <br />She droppeth a paul through the grating, <br />And silently steals away. <br /> <br />When, with a long low mumble <br />Of lips that appear to pray, <br />There cometh a knock-so humble- <br />The little voice answers, Chi è? <br />``I, the poor monk.'' Just a little <br />She opens, but nought doth say; <br />Gives him baiocchi or victual, <br />And silently steals away. <br /> <br />But when, as the shadows longer <br />Stretch half athwart the way, <br />There cometh a knock, much stronger, <br />The little voice answers, Chi è? <br />And when I answer, Io! <br />No bolts nor bars delay; <br />But, with the wild whisper, Ah Dio! <br />We kiss, and we steal away.<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chi-2/
