A Dirge / Amy Levy

A Dirge

Rhoda Baer, Woman Staring out Window,
2009. Public domain, Wikimedia Commons.

"Mein Herz, mein Herz ist traurig
Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai"

There's May amid the meadows,
    There's May amid the trees;
Her May-time note the cuckoo
    Sends forth upon the breeze.

Above the rippling river
    May swallows skim and dart;
November and December
    Keep watch within my heart.

The spring breathes in the breezes,
    The woods with wood-notes ring,
And all the budding hedgerows
    Are fragrant of the spring.

In secret, silent places
    The live green things upstart; 

Ice-bound, ice-crown'd dwells winter
    For ever in my heart.

Upon the bridge I linger,
    Near where the lime-trees grow;
Above, swart birds are circling,
    Beneath, the stream runs slow.

A stripling and a maiden
    Come wand'ring up the way;
His eyes are glad with springtime,
    Her face is fair with May.

Of warmth and sun and sweetness
    All nature takes a part;
The ice of all the ages
    Weighs down upon my heart.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)
from A Minor Poet, and other verse, 1884

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amy Levy biography

Philosophy / Amy Levy

Philosophy

Ere all the world had grown so drear,
When I was young and you were here,
'Mid summer roses in summer weather,
What pleasant times we've had together!

We were not Phyllis, simple-sweet,
And Corydon; we did not meet
By brook or meadow, but among
A Philistine and flippant throng

Which much we scorned; (less rigorous
It had no scorn at all for us!)
How many an eve of sweet July,
Heedless of Mrs. Grundy's eye,

We've scaled the stairway's topmost height,
And sat there talking half the night;
And, gazing on the crowd below,
Thanked Fate and Heaven that made us so; —

To hold the pure delights of brain
Above light loves and sweet champagne.
For, you and I, we did eschew
The egoistic "I" and "you;"

And all our observations ran
On Art and Letters, Life and Man.
Proudly we sat, we two, on high,
Throned in our Objectivity;

Scarce friends, not lovers (each avers),
But sexless, safe Philosophers.

    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Dear Friend, you must not deem me light
If, as I lie and muse to-night,
I give a smile and not a sigh
To thoughts of our Philosophy.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)
from A London Plane-tree, and other verse, 1889

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amy Levy biography

"Philosophy" read for Audiobook Passion.

London in July / Amy Levy

London in July

What ails my senses thus to cheat?
     What is it ails the place,
That all the people in the street
     Should wear one woman's face?

The London trees are dusty-brown
     Beneath the summer sky;
My love, she dwells in London town,
     Nor leaves it in July.

O various and intricate maze,
     Wide waste of square and street;
Where, missing through unnumbered days.
     We twain at last may meet!

And who cries out on crowd and mart?
     Who prates of stream and sea ?
The summer in the city's heart —
     That is enough for me.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)
from A London Plane-tree, and other verse, 1889

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

"London in July" read by Ghizela Rowe. Courtesy Ghizela Rowe - Topic.

Amy Levy biography

In September / Amy Levy

In September

The sky is silver-grey; the long
    Slow waves caress the shore.
On such a day as this I have been glad,
    Who shall be glad no more.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)
from A London Plane-tree, and other verse, 1889

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amy Levy biography

"September" read by Ghizela Rowe. Courtesy Ghizela Rowe - Topic.

A June-tide Echo / Amy Levy

A June-tide Echo

    (After a Richter concert.)

In the long, sad time, when the sky was grey,
And the keen blast blew through the city drear,
When delight had fled from the night and the day,
My chill heart whispered, "June will be here!

"June with its roses a-sway in the sun,
Its glory of green on mead and tree."
Lo, now the sweet June-tide is nearly done,
June-tide, and never a joy for me

Is it so much of the gods that I pray?
Sure craved man never so slight a boon!
To be glad and glad in my heart one day —
One perfect day of the perfect June.

Sweet sounds to-night rose up, wave upon wave;
Sweet dreams were afloat in the balmy air.
This is the boon of the gods that I crave —
To be glad, as the music and night were fair.

For once, for one fleeting hour, to hold
The fair shape the music that rose and fell
Revealed and concealed like a veiling fold;
To catch for an instant the sweet June spell.

For once, for one hour, to catch and keep
The sweet June secret that mocks my heart;
Now lurking calm, like a thing asleep,
Now hither and thither with start and dart.

Then the sick, slow grief of the weary years,
The slow, sick grief and the sudden pain;
The long days of labour, the nights of tears —
No more these things would I hold in vain.

I would hold my life as a thing of worth;
Pour praise to the gods for a precious thing.
Lo, June in her fairness is on earth,
And never a joy does the niggard bring.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)
from A Minor Poet, and other verse, 1884

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amy Levy biography

A March Day in London / Amy Levy

A March Day in London

The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.

From end to end, with aimless feet,
All day long have I paced the street.
My limbs are weary, but in my breast
Stirs the goad of a mad unrest.
I would give anything to stay
The little wheel that turns in my brain;
The little wheel that turns all day,
That turns all night with might and main.

What is the thing I fear, and why?
Nay, but the world is all awry –
The wind's in the east, the sun's in the sky.
The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line;
The ruby lights of the hansoms shine,
Glance, and flicker like fire-flies bright;
The wind has fallen with the night,
And once again the town seems fair
Thwart the mist that hangs i' the air.

And o'er, at last, my spirit steals
A weary peace; peace that conceals
Within its inner depths the grain
Of hopes that yet shall flower again.

~~
Amy Levy (1861-1889)

from A London Plane-Tree, and other verse, 1889

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amy Levy biography

"A March Day in London" read by Rhonda Fetterman for LibriVox.org.

Courtesy Literary Guide - Volume Four.