A Cross-Road Epitaph

   Am Kruzweg wird begraben

     Wer selber brachte divh um.

WHEN first the world grew dark to me

I call'd on God, yet came not he.

Whereon, as wearier waxed my lot,

On Love I call'd, but Love came not.

When a worse evil did befall,

Death, on thee only did I call.

Amy Levy

A March Day in London

THE east wind blows in the street today;

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 thing I fear, and why?

Nay, but the world is all awry--

The wind's in the east, the sun's in the sky.

The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line;

The ruby lights of the hansoms shine,

Glance, and flicker like fire-flies bright;

The wind has fallen with the night,

And once again the town seems fair

Thwart the mist that hangs i' the air.

And o'er, at last, my spirit steals

A weary peace; peace that conceals

within its inner depths the grain

Of hopes that yet shall flower again.

Amy Levy

Straw in the Street

STRAW in the street where I pass to-day

Dulls the sound of the wheels and feet.

'Tis for a failing life, they lay

            Straw in the street.

Here, where the pulses of London beat,

Someone strives with the presence, grey;

Ah, is it victory or defeat?

The hurrying people go their way,

Pause and jostle and pass and greet;

For life, for death, are they treading, say,

            Straw in the street?

Amy Levy