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A Minor Poet and other Verse. Levy, Amy, 1861–1889.
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page: 60

To Sylvia.

  • “O LOVE, lean thou thy cheek to mine,
  • And let the tears together flow”—
  • Such was the song you sang to me
  • Once, long ago.
  • Such was the song you sang ; and yet
  • (O be not wroth !) I scarcely knew
  • What sounds flow’d forth ; I only felt
  • That you were you.
  • I scarcely knew your hair was gold,
  • Nor of the heavens’ own blue your eyes.
  • Sylvia and song, divinely mixt,
  • Made Paradise.
page: 61
  • These things I scarcely knew ; to‐day,
  • When love is lost and hope is fled,
  • The song you sang so long ago
  • Rings in my head.
  • Clear comes each note and true ; to‐day,
  • As in a picture I behold
  • Your tur’d‐up chin, and small, sweet head
  • Misty with gold.
  • I see how your dear eyes grew deep,
  • How your lithe body thrilled and swayed,
  • And how were whiter than the keys
  • Your hands that played. . . .
  • Ah, sweetest ! cruel have you been,
  • And robbed my life of many things.
  • I will not chide ; ere this I knew
  • That Love had wings.
  • You’ve robbed my life of many things—
  • Of love and hope, of fame and pow’r.
  • So be it, sweet. You cannot steal
  • One golden hour.
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