The Street Singer

(Villanelle from my window.)

He stands at the kerb and sings.
’Tis a doleful tune and slow,
Ah me, if I had but wings!

He bends to the coin one flings,
But he never attempts to go,-
He stands at the kerb and sings.

The conjurer comes with his rings,
And the Punch-and-Judy show.
Ah me, if I had but wings!

They pass like all fugitive things—
They fade and they pass, but lo!
He stands at the kerb and sings.

All the magic that Music brings
Is lost when he mangles it so—
Ah me, if I had but wings!

But the worst is a thought that stings!
There is nothing at hand to throw!
He stands at the kerb and sings—
Ah me, if I had but wings!

Austin Dobson.