Classic Poem

Methought a sweet sound from the street uprose, —
And as I pause, and strive again to hear,
" St Patrick's Day" draws softly to its close,
And " Jordan's" waves flow sweetly to my ear,
What though from humble source the chorus floats?
Music is music, and I listen still;
I have " an ear", — ay, two ! — Even jews-harp notes
Pass current with me, hear them where I will,
A slight Italian boy, with jetty hair
Shading dark eyes, grinds out the melody,
Pulverized music! — In his garb and air
I read of sunnier lands beyond the sea,
And, dreaming, wander to a fairer clime,
Recalled, too suddenly, by — " If you please, a dime! "