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A Minor Poet and other Verse. Levy, Amy, 1861–1889.
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page: 69

I.

AT last ; so this is you, my dear ! How should I guess to find you here ? So long, so long, I sought in vain In many cities, many lands, With straining eyes and groping hands ; The people marvelled at my pain. They said : “But sure, the woman’s mad ; What ails her, we should like to know, That she should be so wan and sad, And silent through the revels go ?” They clacked with such a sorry stir ! Was I to tell ? were they to know That I had lost you, Christopher ? Will you forgive me for one thing ? Whiles, when a stranger came my way, My heart would beat and I would say : “ Here’s Christopher !” —then lingering With longer gaze, would turn away page: 70 Cold, sick at heart. My dear, I know You will forgive me for this thing. It is so very long ago Since I have seen your face—till now ; Now that I see it—lip and brow, Eyes, nostril, chin, alive and clear ; Last time was long ago ; I know This thing you will forgive me, dear.
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