I heard last night a little child go singing
 'Neath Casa Guidi windows, by the church,
O bella libertà, O bella! -- stringing
  The same words still on notes he went in search
So high for, you concluded the upspringing
  Of such a nimble bird to sky from perch
Must leave the whole bush in a tremble green,
  And that the heart of Italy must beat,
While such a voice had leave to rise serene
 'Twixt church and palace of a Florence street;
A little child, too, who not long had been
  By mother's finger steadied on his feet,
And still O bella libertà he sang.