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A Minor Poet and other Verse. Levy, Amy, 1861–1889.
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page: 78

A June‐Tide Echo.

(After a Richter Concert.)

  • IN the long, sad time, when the sky was grey,
  • And the keen blast blew through the city drear,
  • When delight had fled from the night and the day,
  • My chill heart whispered, “ June will be here !
  • “ June with its roses a‐sway in the sun,
  • Its glory of green on mead and tree.”
  • Lo, now the sweet June‐tide is nearly done,
  • June‐tide, and never a joy for me
  • Is it so much of the gods that I pray ?
  • Sure craved man never so slight a boon !
  • To be glad and glad in my heart one day—
  • One perfect day of the perfect June.
page: 79
  • Sweet sounds to‐night rose up, wave upon wave ;
  • Sweet dreams were afloat in the balmy air.
  • This is the boon of the gods that I crave—
  • To be glad, as the music and night were fair.
  • For once, for one fleeting hour, to hold
  • The fair shape the music that rose and fell
  • Revealed and concealed like a veiling fold ;
  • To catch for an instant the sweet June spell.
  • For once, for one hour, to catch and keep
  • The sweet June secret that mocks my heart ;
  • Now lurking calm, like a thing asleep,
  • Now hither and thither with start and dart.
  • Then the sick, slow grief of the weary years,
  • The slow, sick grief and the sudden pain ;
  • The long days of labour, the nights of tears—
  • No more these things would I hold in vain.
  • I would hold my life as a thing of worth ;
  • Pour praise to the gods for a precious thing.
  • Lo, June in her fairness is on earth,
  • And never a joy does the niggard bring.
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