Amy Levy

(1861 - 10 September 1889 / London)

Amy Levy Poems

41. To Sylvia 1/3/2003
42. Epitaph. (On A Commonplace Person Who Died In Bed) 1/1/2004
43. Between The Showers 1/3/2003
44. A Game Of Lawn Tennis 1/3/2003
45. A Cross-Road Epitaph 1/3/2003
46. The Lost Friend 1/3/2003
47. In A Minor Key 1/3/2003
48. Straw In The Street 1/3/2003
49. Alma Mater 1/3/2003
50. To A Dead Poet 1/3/2003
51. Borderland 1/3/2003
52. At A Dinner Party 1/3/2003
53. Ballade Of An Omnibus 1/3/2003
54. Felo De Se 1/3/2003
55. The Dream 1/3/2003
56. Contradictions 1/3/2003
57. The Village Garden 1/3/2003
58. Last Words 1/3/2003
59. A June-Tide Echo 1/3/2003
60. The Birch-Tree At Loschwitz 1/3/2003
61. In The Black Forest 1/3/2003
62. A London Plane-Tree 1/3/2003
63. Captivity 1/3/2003
64. Xantippe 1/3/2003
65. A Greek Girl 1/3/2003
66. A Farewell 1/3/2003
67. London In July 1/3/2003
68. Magdalen 1/3/2003
69. A Minor Poet 1/3/2003
70. Ballade Of A Special Edition 1/3/2003
71. A Prayer 1/3/2003
72. At Dawn 1/3/2003
73. New Love, New Life 1/3/2003
74. A March Day In London 1/3/2003

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Best Poem of 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 ...

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A Game Of Lawn Tennis

What wonder that I should be dreaming
Out here in the garden to-day?
The light through the leaves is streaming,--
Paulina cries, "Play!"

The birds to each other are calling,
The freshly-cut grasses smell sweet;
To Teddy's dismay, comes falling
The ball at my feet.

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