Long Streets, Yet Strait Of The Medieval Town Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

long streets, yet strait of the medieval town
the dawn has climbed the village hill
ten minutes ago and more
the cock has crowed before
and with him all the hens are risen:

the running of dogs
unwholesome urine and smells
and liquids along the village streets
the opening of the doors
the creaking of open casements
the first shouts of the green-vendors
the passing bell of the sexton
the church-bells ringing for first mass
it’s five in the morning quite!

They say-they say they found a child
In the window of the small nunnery
Who the mother? Who the father?
The village gossipers are fresh this morn
And the new-born gives its first cries to-day
As sisters admire it in the small nunnery.
Now it’s more than five, it’s near to six this morn!

Long streets, yet strait of the medieval town
I want to capture your heart
That heart I want so much
And once captured it
I will unlock it in my treasure-chest
And thus confined will not go:

But every morn
Long streets, yet strait of the medieval town
I will dream of you.