Early and late the patient soul Smiling and nodding keeps his stand, On a corner where the breezes play, And the child-parade goes by each day; For windmills whirl in his other hand. Petaled windmills of every hue Known to his native, opal land, Busily, dizzily whiz and whir, Making rosettes of rainbow blur, Too bewildering to be true. Giovanni guards the corner well; A kindly wizard, ready to sell For a tiny bit of sordid money A gaudy joy, when the day is sunny. Flimsy joys! Just pretty toys, Fragile and useless anywhere; Except to little girls and boys Empty and meaningless as air! How babies love the foolish things! Their chubby, mittened hands they reach, Pout rosy lips in lisping speech, Coaxing the wizard with wrinkled face To part with his treasure, The joys that have wings. He is willing enough, for a nickel or two— And what is a nickel to me or you? He grins and nods with an artist’s grace, Pleased with the little ones’ guileless pleasure. He airily pockets the proffered pence, Tethers his wares to the iron fence. With gentle fingers he ties the strings To proud small buttons; he thrusts a wand— A fairy wand—in a baby hand. “_Va bene!_” Off to a Wonderland! Giovanni Carbone! No wonder you grin, With your burning eye set in parchment skin; Purveyor of dreams for the innocent; Maker of laughter rather than pain; Vender of perfect, rounded content. I envy you again and again Your job and your bit of wonder-money, And your breezy stand, when the day is sunny. THE SPARROW Little bird of dusty brown, Why do you stay here in town, In the noise and dirt and heat Hopping in the ugly street? Other songsters choose to go Where the grass and clovers grow, Where the dew is on the hill And the shady woods are still; Where the baby rivers skip, And the cool green mosses drip. There to-morrow I shall be! Sparrow, do you envy me?