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Poem by Amy Levy


Ralph to Mary


Love, you have led me to the strand,
Here, where the stilly, sunset sea,
Ever receding silently,
Lays bare a shining stretch of sand;

Which, as we tread, in waving line,
Sinks softly neath our moving feet;
And looking down our glances meet,
Two mirrored figures--yours and mine.

To-night you found me sad, alone,
Amid the noisy, empty books
And drew me forth with those sweet looks,
And gentle ways which are your own.

The glory of the setting sun
Has swayd and softened all my mood;
This wayward heart you understood,
Dear love, as you have always done.

Have you forgot the poet wild,
Who sang rebellious songs and hurld
His fierce anathemas at the world,
Which shruggd its shoulders, passd and smild?

Who fled in wrath to distant lands,
And sitting, thrond upon a steep,
Made music to the mighty deep,
And thought, Perhaps it understands.

Who back returnd, a wanderer drear,
Urged by the spirits restless pain,
Sang his wild melodies in vain--
Sang them to ears that would not hear. . .

A weary, lonely thing he flies,
His souls fire with souls hunger quelld,
Till, sudden turning, he beheld
His meaning--mirrored in your eyes! . . .

Ah, Love, since then have passed away
Long years ; some things are changd on earth;
Men say that poet had his worth,
And twine for him the tardy bay.

What care I, so that hand in hand,
And heart in heart we pace the shore?
My heart desireth nothing more,
We understand,--we understand.



Amy Levy


Amy Levy's other poems:
  1. On the Wye in May
  2. Youth and Love
  3. Between the Showers
  4. Impotens
  5. Lohengrin


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