The Promise Of Sleep – Amy Levy 

Put the sweet thoughts from out thy mind, 

The dreams from out thy breast; 

No joy for thee–but thou shalt find 

Thy rest 
All day I could not work for woe, 
I could not work nor rest; 

The trouble drove me to and fro, 

Like a leaf on the storm’s breast. 
Night came and saw my sorrow cease; 

Sleep in the chamber stole; 

Peace crept about my limbs, and peace 

Fell on my stormy soul. 
And now I think of only this,– 

How I again may woo 

The gentle sleep– who promises 

That death is gentle too.

The Sick Man And The Nightingale – Amy Levy 

So late, and yet a nightingale? 
Long since have dropp’d the blossoms pale, 

The summer fields are ripening, 

And yet a sound of spring? 
O tell me, didst thou come to hear, 

Sweet Spring, that I should die this year; 

And call’st across from the far shore 

To me one greeting more?

New Love, New Life – Amy Levy 

She, who so long has lain 
Stone-stiff with folded wings, 

Within my heart again 

The brown bird wakes and sings. 
Brown nightingale, whose strain 

Is heard by day, by night, 

She sings of joy and pain, 

Of sorrow and delight. 
‘Tis true,–in other days 

Have I unbarred the door; 

He knows the walks and ways– 

Love has been here before. 
Love blest and love accurst 

Was here in days long past; 

This time is not the first, 

But this time is the last.

Sonnet – Amy Levy 

Most wonderful and strange it seems, that I 

Who but a little time ago was tost 

High on the waves of passion and of pain, 

With aching heat and wildly throbbing brain, 

Who peered into the darkness, deeming vain 

All things there found if but One thing were lost, 

Thus calm and still and silent here should lie, 

Watching and waiting, –waiting passively. 
The dark has faded, and before mine eyes 

Have long, grey flats expanded, dim and bare; 

And through the changing guises all things wear 

Inevitable Law I recognise: 

Yet in my heart a hint of feeling lies 

Which half a hope and half a despair.