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Amy Levy, solitude, in English Clear filters

SadAmy Levy

A Wall Flower

I lounge in the doorway and languish in vain While Tom, Dick and Harry are dancing with Jane My spirit rises to the music's beat; There is a leaden fiend lurks in my feet! To move unto your motion, Love, were sweet. Somewhere, I think, some other where, not here, In other ages, on another sphere, I danced with you, and you with me, my dear. In perfect motion did our bodies sway, To perfect music that was heard alway; Woe's me, that am so dull of foot to-day! To move unto your motion, Love, were sweet; My spirit rises to the music's beat-- But, ah, the leaden demon in my feet!
SadAmy Levy

In the Black Forest

I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, and a fancy Fluttered my sense around: "I lie here dead and buried, And this is churchyard ground. "I am at rest for ever; Ended the stress and strife." Straight I fell to and sorrowed For the pitiful past life. Right wronged, and knowledge wasted; Wise labour spurned for ease; The sloth and the sin and the failure; Did I grow sad for these?
ContemplativeAmy Levy

The Birch-Tree at Loschwitz

At Loschwitz above the city The air is sunny and chill; The birch-trees and the pine-trees Grow thick upon the hill. Lone and tall, with silver stem, A birch-tree stands apart; The passionate wind of spring-time Stirs in its leafy heart. I lean against the birch-tree, My arms around it twine; It pulses, and leaps, and quivers, Like a human heart to mine. One moment I stand, then sudden Let loose mine arms that cling: O God! the lonely hillside, The passionate wind of spring!
SadAmy Levy

A Prayer

Since that I may not have Love on this side the grave, Let me imagine Love. Since not mine is the bliss Of 'claspt hands and lips that kiss,' Let me in dreams it prove. What tho' as the years roll No soul shall melt to my soul, Let me conceive such thing; Tho' never shall entwine Loving arms around mine Let dreams caresses bring. To live--it is my doom-- Lonely as in a tomb, This cross on me was laid; My God, I know not why;

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