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To Sylvia

Amy Levy 1861 (London) – 1889 (London)



"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.

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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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Amy Levy

Amy Levy was a British essayist, poet, and novelist best remembered for her feminist positions and her homosexual romances during the Victorian era. more…

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    "To Sylvia" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 30 Nov. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/2168/to-sylvia>.

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