Poem by Amy Levy

In the Mile End Road

How like her! But ’tis she herself, 
Comes up the crowded street,
How little did I think, the morn,
My only love to meet!

Whose else that motion and that mien?
Whose else that airy tread?
For one strange moment I forgot
My only love was dead.

1. A Greek Girl
2. On the Threshold
3. Philosophy
4. The Piano-Organ
5. On the Wye in May

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