Poem by Amy Levy

In the Night

Cruel? I think there never was a cheating
More cruel, thro’ all the weary days than this!
This is no dream, my heart kept on repeating,
But sober certainty of waking bliss.

Dreams? O, I know their faces -- goodly seeming,
Vaporous, whirled on many-coloured wings;
I have had dreams before, this is no dreaming,
But daylight gladness that the daylight brings.

What ails my love; what ails her? She is paling;
Faint grows her face, and slowly seems to fade!
I cannot clasp her--stretch out unavailing
My arms across the silence and the shade.

1. On the Threshold
2. The Piano-Organ
3. A Prayer
4. To Death
5. In the Nower

Menella Smedley In the Night ("Across the moon the beech-tree weaves")

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