Poem – Translated from Geibel

O say, thou wild, thou oft deceived heart,
What mean these noisy throbbings in my breast?

After thy long, unutterable woe

Wouldst thou not rest?
Fall’n from Life’s tree the sweet rose-blossom lies,

And fragrant youth has fled. What made to seem

This earth as fair to thee as Paradise,

Was all a dream.
The blossom fell, the thorn was left to me;

Deep from the wound the blood-drops ever flow,

All that I have are yearnings, wild desires,

And wrath and woe.
They brought me Lethe’s water, saying, ‘Drink!’

‘Drink, for the draught is sweet,’ I heard them say,

‘Shalt learn how soft a thing forgetting is.’

I answered : ‘Nay.’
What tho’ indeed it were an idle cheat,

Nathless to me ’twas very fair and blest:

With every breath I draw I know that love

Reigns in my breast.
Let me go forth,–and thou, my heart, bleed on:

A lonely spot I seek by night and day,

That love and sorrow I may there breathe forth

In a last lay. 

Poem – Youth and Love

What does youth know of love?
Little enough, I trow!

He plucks the myrtle for his brow,

For his forehead the rose.

Nay, but of love

It is not youth who knows. 

Poem – Twilight 

So Mary died last night! To-day
The news has travelled here.

And Robert died at Michaelmas,

And Walter died last year.
I went at sunset up the lane,

I lingered by the stile;

I saw the dusky fields that stretched

Before me many a mile.
I leaned against the stile, and thought

Of her whose soul had fled–

I knew that years on years must pass

Or e’er I should be dead. 

Poem – 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! 

Cambridge In The Long – Amy Levy 

Where drowsy sound of college-chimes 

Across the air is blown, 

And drowsy fragrance of the limes, 

I lie and dream alone. 
A dazzling radiance reigns o’er all– 

O’er gardens densely green, 

O’er old grey bridges and the small, 

Slow flood which slides between. 
This is the place; it is not strange, 

But known of old and dear.– 

What went I forth to seek? The change 

Is mine; why am I here? 
Alas, in vain I turned away, 

I fled the town in vain; 

The strenuous life of yesterday 

Calleth me back again. 
And was it peace I came to seek? 

Yet here, where memories throng, 

Ev’n here, I know the past is weak, 

I know the present strong. 
This drowsy fragrance, silent heat, 

Suit not my present mind, 

Whose eager thought goes out to meet 

The life it left behind. 
Spirit with sky to change; such hope, 

An idle one we know; 

Unship the oars, make loose the rope, 

Push off the boat and go. . . 
Ah, would what binds me could have been 

Thus loosened at a touch! 

This pain of living is too keen, 

Of loving, is too much.

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?