Page:Edna St. Vincent Millay - A Few Figs from Thistles.djvu/19

 But he caught the quaint Italian quip she flung him from the gutter; (What can there be to cry about that I should lie and cry?)

He laid his darling hand upon her little black head, (I wish I were a ragged child with ear-rings in my ears!) And he said she was a baggage to have said what she had said; (Truly I shall be ill unless I stop these tears!)