DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY \ -CXjLck^-cJ^yJ). . 4" 7fciw-^ MrtT+Q cL&' A^0 \Xl/wlXl < /f _ CilC Crict Ckj 'tU' ^ JCrt-WiT 'TV&Jr UX -t idvtd' ''^CH-ivWA kv/ §4Cfiy i&OAs /Y^a-Jui : ,vw -r^cJr __ _. ^ ( T|w -io^vaX i>&v onn-cx- xl ‘J^ ■ T|v/ ■Uraw/ oA7 y*LX?-a.X) c&jLsJfcy _ 3 " cfc^\_ty -'A-£A-/ xtrCt-Ei/ £-&+-r£> u^uJL aj- ct- ex txg/ iLux^s A-S-2-i^>vvt-cty A^ctl^x ^tA4&/vi4K£y a| ^WH^A/ JL+sGn^L' CLfr -bvX'QlAJ /vw> Tfc&X- aJ^. o^tf-v^eLtixiy A^JsJL^y ~~ &z . t^jLjVct ,-UWyto •Y U^ l •5 rns&k - ^ C-»wj^cJxxAX^ . 3xx>-cx&y CLyaxvC-/ . f ^ %fv Mritii/ -i\fV «>tx»-i/ /v*uvit<, qxvdt£«y cLS^v-CA-ot'-i, ~ , '" ■UAwisAii QyweL . /$<> XAXCxxnW-Cti^ ^ r+b ^tfLe, - “ — “ CL^cL aJL&J -^jdLscjjU^r- ^Ll, UH^vj-Z^L -t/Vt \LsXu^ xjaufc '-dhaJ MA^xXsL/ ^JL&vYxJtS • ^'tv-cvxf - XU-Ouiv S»XA/ XLCTA-fi-' tTWAJO ' JA^Xt^SJ\J x$C JjkcUJw , CX)^‘*i'z^/ ^v£Ay 6\fu r *^ A-ax^ Jiu:/* -2 -_/ -v-C-iPt - ~i%£A/ /vx-a y Trvvjs^' c OA4J-CW ZitovOB-/. fCe>^v-c^fcc^ xo^j^w,-Oc |i^»-»M/ {j,CL\jJ- £tk> ixv^Vt-V' CXCMM^/ TtfkX- CS^XXVcLa/ , cL ,Aitf M|i,X C^-Jc^cL a^v ^Uctv^C- OJtd^c^L^ . r BY THE SAME AUTHOR. A MINOR POET, AND OTHER VERSE. THE ROMANCE OF A SHOP ( A Novel). REUBEN SACHS (A Novel). Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/londonplanetree01levy /fffb / _ A London Plane-Tree n and other Verse* Jjy AMY LEVY CAMEO SERIES FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY NEW YORK. MDCCCXCI. sv/ . r? L 6 6 £ Z_ The proofs of this volume were corrected by the Author about a week before her death . Mine is an urban Muse , and bouna By some strange law to paven ground. AUSTIN DOBSON, To Clementina Black More blest than was of old Diogenes , I have not held my lantern up in vain. Not mine , at least , this evil — to complain: “ There is none hottest among all of these.” Our hopes go down that sailed before the breeze; Our creeds upoti the rock are rent in twain ; Something it is, if at the last remain One doating spar cast up by hungry seas. The secret of our being, who can tell? To praise the gods and Fate is tiot my part; Evil I see, and pain; within my heart There is no voice that whispers : “ All is well.” Yet fair are days in summer; and more fair The growths of human goodness here and there. Contents A London Plane-Tree. PAGE A London Plane-Tree . 17 London in July . 18 A March Day in London 19 Ballade of an Omnibus . . 21 Ballade of a Special Edition . Straw in the Street . \ 23 Between the Showers Out of Town . Roundels . • 25-27 The Piano- Organ . . 28 London Poets . .... 29 The Village Garden . 30 re, Dreams, and Death. New Lose, New Life 35 Lmpotens . . • • • • 36 Youth and Lcrve • • • • 37 The Dream . ■ 38 On the Threshold . . 39 The Birch- Tree at Loschwitz . . . 40 In the Night . • • • • 41 Borderland . • • • • 42 IO Contents. PAGE At Dawn 43 Last Words 44 June 46 A Reminiscence ...... 47 The Sequel to “ A Reminiscence ” . . . 48 In the Mile End Road 50 Contradictions 51 Twilight 52 In September . . . . . . . 53 Moods and Thoughts. The Old House 57 Lohengrin ....... 58 Alma Mater 59 In the Black Forest 6 1 Captivity ....... 62 The Two Terrors 64 The Promise of Sleep 65 The Last Judgment ..... 66 Felo de Se . . . . . . . 68 The Lost Friend 71 Cambridge in the Long . . . . . 72 To Vernon Lee .74 The Old Poet ...... 75 On the Wye in May . . . . . 77 Oh, is it Love? 78 In the Nower ...... 79 The End of the Day 80 Contents. II Odds and Ends. PAGE Songs from The New Phaon ( unpublished ) — I. A Wall-flower . . • • 85 2. The First Extra 86 3. At a Dinner Party . . . . 87 Philosophy .... 88 A Game of Lawn Tennis . . . 90 To E * . . 91 Illustrations. 'fa A London Plane-Tree : The Temple Church. By J. Bernard Partridge. Frontispiece. Odds and Ends. By J. Bernard Partridge. Facing p. 83. A London Plane-Tree. A London Plane-Tree. 17 A London Plane-Tree. n REEN is the plane-tree in the square, ^ The other trees are brown ; They droop and pine for country air ; The plane-tree loves the town. Here from my garret-pane, I mark The plane-tree bud and blow, Shed her recuperative bark, And spread her shade below. Among her branches, in and out, The city breezes play ; The dun fog wraps her round about ; Above, the smoke curls grey. Others the country take for choice, And hold the town in scorn ; But she has listened to the voice On city breezes borne. i8 A London Plane-Tree. London in July. •Sg Y \( HAT ails my senses thus to cheat? “ “ What is it ails the place, That all the people in the street Should wear one woman’s face ? The London trees are dusty-brown Beneath the summer sky ; My love, she dwells in London town, Nor leaves it in July. O various and intricate maze, Wide waste of square and street ; Where, missing through unnumbered days, We twain at last may meet ! And who cries out on crowd and mart ? Who prates of stream and sea ? The summer in the city’s heart — That is enough for me. A London Plane-Tree. 19 A March Day in London. ’’THE east wind blows in the street to-day ; The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey. ’Tis the wind of icej 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 20 A London Plane-Tree. 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. A London Plane-Tree. 21 Ballade of an Omnibus. To see my love suffices me. — Ballades in Blue China. QOME men to carriages aspire ; On some the costly hansoms wait ; Some seek a fly, on job or hire ; Some mount the trotting steed, elate. I envy not the rich and great, A wandering minstrel, poor and free, I am contented with my fate — An omnibus suffices me. In winter days of rain and mire I find within a corner strait ; The ’busmen know me and my lyre From Brompton to the Bull-and-Gate. When summer comes, I mount in state The topmost summit, whence I see Croesus look up, compassionate — An omnibus suffices me. 22 A London Plane-Tree. I mark, untroubled by desire, Lucullus’ phaeton and its freight. The scene whereof I cannot tire, The human tale of love and hate, The city pageant, early and late Unfolds itself, rolls by, to be A pleasure deep and delicate. An omnibus suffices me. Princess, your splendour you requite, I, my simplicity ; agree Neither to rate lower nor higher. An omnibus suffices me. A London Plane-Tree. 23 Ballade of a Special Edition. TIE comes ; I hear him up the street — A 1 Bird of ill omen, flapping wide The pinion of a printed sheet, His hoarse note scares the eventide. Of slaughter, theft, and suicide He is the herald and the friend ; Now he vociferates with pride — A double murder in Mile End ! A hanging to his soul is sweet ; His gloating fancy ’s fain to bide Where human-freighted vessels meet, And misdirected trains collide. With Shocking Accidents supplied, He tramps the town from end to end. How often have we heard it cried — A double murder in Mile End. A London Plane-Tree. H War loves he ; victory or defeat, So there be loss on either side. His tale of horrors incomplete, Imagination’s aid is tried. Since no distinguished man has died, And since the Fates, relenting, send No great catastrophe, he’s spied This double murder in Mile End. Fiend, get thee gone ! no more repeat Those sounds which do mine ears offend. It is apocryphal, you cheat, Your double murder in Mile End. A London Plane-Tree. 2 5 Straw in the Street. m QTRAW 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 ? 2 6 A London Plane-Tree. Between the Showers . gETWEEN the showers I went my way, The glistening street was bright with flowers ; It seemed that March had turned to May Between the showers. Above the shining roofs and towers The blue broke forth athwart the grey ; Birds carolled in their leafless bowers. Hither and thither, swift and gay, The people chased the changeful hours ; And you, you passed and smiled that day, Between the showers. A London Plane-Tree. 27 Out of Town, AUT of town the sky was bright and blue, Never fog-cloud, lowering, thick, was seen to frown ; Nature dons a garb of gayer hue, Out of town. Spotless lay the snow on field and down, Pure and keen the air above it blew ; All wore peace and beauty for a crown. London sky, marred by smoke, veiled from view, London snow, trodden thin, dingy brown, Whence that strange unrest at thoughts of you Out of town ? 28 A London Plane-Tree. i The Piano-Organ. % \A Y student-lamp is lighted, 1 A The books and papers are spread ; A sound comes floating upwards, Chasing the thoughts from my head. I open the garret window, Let the music in and the moon ; See the woman grin for coppers, While the man grinds out the tune. Grind me a dirge or a requiem, Or a funeral-march sad and slow, But not, O not, that waltz tune I heard so long ago. I stand upright by the window, The moonlight streams in wan : — O God ! with its changeless rise and fall The tune twirls on and on. A London Plane-Tree. 29 London Poets . (in memoriam.) 'THEY trod the streets and squares where 1 now I tread, With weary hearts, a little while ago ; When, thin and grey, the melancholy snow Clung to the leafless branches overhead ; Or when the smoke- veiled sky grew stormy-red In autumn ; with a re-arisen woe Wrestled, what time the passionate spring winds blow ; And paced scorched stones in summer : — they are dead. The sorrow of their souls to them did seem As real as mine to me, as permanent. To-day, it is the shadow of a dream, The half-forgotten breath of breezes spent. So shall another soothe his woe supreme — “ No more he comes, who this way came and went.” 3 ° A London Plane-Tree. The Village Garden . TO E. M. S. II ERE, where your garden fenced about and ^ still is, Here, where the unmoved summer air is . sweet With mixed delight of lavender and lilies, Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat. Of many summers are the trees recorders, The turf a carpet many summers wove ; Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders, Love-in-a-mist and crimson-hearted clove. All breathes of peace and sunshine in the present, All tells of bygone peace and bygone sun, Of fruitful years accomplished, budding, cres- cent, Of gentle seasons passing one by one. A London Plane-Tree. 31 Fain would I bide, but ever in the distance A ceaseless voice is sounding clear and low ; — The city calls me with her old persistence, The city calls me — I arise and go. Of gentler souls this fragrant peace is guerdon ; For me, the roar and hurry of the town, Wherein more lightly seems to press the burden Of individual life that weighs me down. I leave your garden to the happier comers For whom its silent sweets are anodyne. Shall I return ? Who knows, in other summers The peace my spirit longs for maybe mine? Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire. Would not we shatter it to bits— and then Re- mould it nearer to the Heart' s Desire ! Omar Khayyam. Love, Dreams, & Death. B Love, Dreams, and Death. 3 5 New Love , New Life . i. QHE, who so long has lain ^ Stone-stiff with folded wings, Within my heart again The brown bird wakes and sings. Brown nightingale, whose strain Is heard by day, by night, She sings of joy and pain, Of sorrow and delight. II. ’Tis true, — in other days Have I unbarred the door ; He knows the walks and ways — Love has been here before. Love blest and love accurst Was here in days long past ; This time is not the first, But this time is the last. 36 Love, Dreams, and Death. Impotens . F I were a woman of old, What prayers I would pray for you, dear ; My pitiful tribute behold — Not a prayer, but a tear. The pitiless order of things, Whose laws we may change not nor break, Alone I could face it— it wrings My heart for your sake. Love, Dreams, and Death. 37 Youth and Love . I R/HAT does youth know of love? * Little enough, I trow ! He plucks the myrtle for his brow, For his forehead the rose. Nay, but of love It is not youth who knows. Love, Dreams, and Death. 38 ! The Dream . Believe me, this was true last nighty Tho' it is false to-day . A. M. F. ROBINSON. n FAIR dream to my chamber flew : Such a crowd of folk that stirred, Jested, fluttered ; only you, You alone of all that band, Calm and silent, spake no word. Only once you neared my place, And your hand one moment’s space Sought the fingers of my hand ; Your eyes flashed to mine ; I knew All was well between us two. * * * * * On from dream to dream I past, But the first sweet vision cast Mystic radiance o’er the last. sjc ^ ^ ^ When I woke the pale night lay Still, expectant of the day ; All about the chamber hung Tender shade of twilight gloom ; The fair dream hovered round me, clun To my thought like faint perfume ; — Like sweet odours, such as cling To the void flask, which erst encloses Attar of rose ; or the pale string Of amber which has lain with roses. Love, Dreams, and Death. 39 On the Threshold . GOD, my dream ! I dreamed that you ^ were dead ; Your mother hung above the couch and wept Whereon you lay all white, and garlanded With blooms of waxen whiteness. I had crept Up to your chamber-door, which stood ajar, And in the doorway watched you from afar, Nor dared advance to kiss your lips and brow. I had no part nor lot in you, as now ; Death had not broken between us the old bar ; Nor torn from out my heart the old, cold sense Of your misprision and my impotence. 40 Love, Dreams, and Death. The Birch-Tree at Loschwitz. n T Loschwitz above the city The air is sunny and chill ; The birch-trees and the pine-trees Grow thick upon the hill. Lone and tall, with silver stem, A birch-tree stands apart ; The passionate wind of spring-time Stirs in its leafy heart. I lean against the birch-tree, My arms around it twine ; It pulses, and leaps, and quivers, Like a human heart to mine. One moment I stand, then sudden Let loose mine arms that cling : O God ! the lonely hillside, The passionate wind of spring ! Love, Dreams, and Death. 4 1 In the Night. /'"HR.UEL ? 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, 42 Love, Dreams, and Death. Borderland . n MI waking, am I sleeping ? ** As the first faint dawn comes creeping Thro’ the pane, I am aware Of an unseen presence hovering, Round, above, in the dusky air : A downy bird, with an odorous wing, That fans my forehead, and sheds perfume, As sweet as love, as soft as death, Drowsy-slow through the summer-gloom. My heart in some dream-rapture saith, It is she. Half in a swoon, I spread my arms in slow delight. — O prolong, prolong the night, For the nights are short in June ! Love, Dreams, and Death. 43 At Dawn. IN the night I dreamed of you ; * All the place was filled With your presence ; in my heart The strife was stilled. All night I have dreamed of you ; Now the morn is grey. — How shall I arise and face The empty day? 44 Love, Dreams, anb Death. Last Words . Dead l airs done with ! K. BROWNING. ''THESE blossoms that I bring, A This song that here I sing, These tears that now I shed, I give unto the dead. There is no more to be done, Nothing beneath the sun, All the long ages through, Nothing — by me for you. The tale is told to the end ; This, ev’n, I may not know — If we were friend and friend, If we were foe and foe. All's done with utterly, . All's done with. Death to me Was ever Death indeed ; To me no kindly creed Love, Dreams, and Death. 45 Consolatory was given. You were of earth, not Heaven. . . . This dreary day, things seem Vain shadows in a dream, Or some strange, pictured show ; And mine own tears that flow, My hidden tears that fall, The vainest of them all. 4 6 Love, Dreams, and Death. June . I AST June I saw your face three times ^ Three times I touched your hand; Now, as before, May month is o’er, And June is in the land. O many Junes shall come and go, Flow’r-footed o’er the mead ; O many Junes for me, to whom Is length of days decreed. There shall be sunlight, scent of rose, Warm mist of summer rain ; Only this change — I shall not look Upon your face again. Love, Dreams, and Death. 47 A Reminiscence . T T is so long gone by, and yet How clearly now I see it all 1 The glimmer of your cigarette, The little chamber, narrow and tall. Perseus ; your picture in its frame ; (How near they seem and yet how far !) The blaze of kindled logs ; the flame Of tulips in a mighty jar. Florence and spring-time : surely each Glad things unto the spirit saith. Why did you lead me in your speech To these dark mysteries of death? 48 Love, Dreams, and Death. The Sequel to “ A Reminiscence.” XT OT in the street and not in the square, 1 ^ The street and square where you went and came ; With shuttered casement your house stands bare, Men hush their voice when they speak your name. I, too, can play at the vain pretence, Can feign you dead ; while a voice sounds clear In the inmost depths of my heart : Go hence, Go, find your friend who is far from here. Not here, but somewhere where I can reach ! Can a man with motion, hearing and sight, And a thought that answered my thought and speech, Be utterly lost and vanished quite ? Love, Dreams, and Death. 49 Whose hand was warm in my hand last week ? . . . My heart beat fast as I neared the gate — Was it this I had come to seek, “ A stone that stared with your name and date ; ” A hideous, turfless, fresh-made mound ; A silence more cold than the wind that blew ? What had I lost, and what had I found ? My flowers that mocked me fell to the ground — Then, and then only, my spirit knew. So Love, Dreams, and Death. In the Mile End Road. TJ OW like her ! But ’tis she herself, *■ * Comes up the crowded street, How little did I think, the morn, My only love to meet 1 Whose else that motion and that mien ? Whose else that airy tread ? For one strange moment I forgot My only love was dead. Love, Dreams, and Death. Si Contradictions. XT OW, even, I cannot think it true, *■ ^ My friend, that there is no more you. Almost as soon were no more I, Which were, of course, absurdity ! Your place is bare, you are not seen, Your grave, I’m told, is growing green ; And both for you and me, you know, There’s no Above and no Below. That you are dead must be inferred, And yet my thought rejects the word. 52 Love, Dreams, and Death. Twilight . QO Mary died last night ! To-day ^ The news has travelled here. And Robert died at Michaelmas, And Walter died last year. I went at sunset up the lane, I lingered by the stile ; I saw the dusky fields that stretched Before me many a mile. I leaned against the stile, and thought Of her whose soul had fled. — I knew that years on years must pass Or e’er I should be dead. Love, Dreams, and Death. 53 In September. % 'FHE sky is silver-grey ; the long A Slow waves caress the shore. — On such a day as this I have been glad, Who shall be glad no more. 1 sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After-life to spell ; A nd by and by my Soul returned to me. And answered, ‘ ‘/ Myself am Heaven and Hell." Omar KhayyAm Moods and Thoughts. Moods and Thoughts. 57 The Old House. T N through the porch and up the silent stair ; 1 Little is changed, I know so well the ways ; — Here, the dead came to meet me ; it was there The dream was dreamed in unforgotten days. But who is this that hurries on before, A flitting shade the brooding shades among ? — She turned, — I saw her face, — O God, it wore The face I used to wear when I was young ! I thought my spirit and my heart were tamed To deadness ; dead the pangs that agonise. The old grief springs to choke me, — I am shamed Before that little ghost with eager eyes. O turn away, let her not see, not know ! How should she bear it, how should understand ? O hasten down the stairway, haste and go, And leave her dreaming in the silent land. c S3 Moods and Thoughts. 'Lohengrin. §* F) ACX to the mystic shore beyond the main The mystic craft has sped, and left no trace. Ah, nevermore may she behold his face, Nor touch his hand, nor hear his voice again ! With hidden front she crouches ; all in vain The proffered balm. A vessel nears the place ; They bring her young, lost brother ; see her strain The new-found nursling in a close embrace. God, we have lost Thee with much questioning. In vain we seek Thy trace by sea and land, And in Thine empty fanes where no men sing. What shall we do through all the weary days ? Thus wail we and lament. Our eyes we raise, And, lo, our Brother with an outstretched hand ! Moods and Thoughts. 59 Alma Mater. A haunted town thou art to me. ANDREW LANG. 'T'O-DAY in Florence all the air 1 Is soft with spring, with sunlight fair ; In the tail street gay folks are met ; Duomo and Tower gleam overhead, Like jewels in the city set, Fair-hued and many-faceted. Against the old grey stones are piled February violets, pale and sweet, Whose scent of earth in woodland wild Is wafted up and down the street. The city’s heart is glad ; my own Sits lightly on its bosom's thro?ie. * * * * * * * Why is it that I see to-day, Imaged as clear as in a dream, A. little city far away, A churlish sky, a sluggish stream, 6o Moods and Thoughts. Tall clustering trees and gardens fair, Dark birds that circle in the air, Grey towers and fanes ; on either hand, Stretches of wind-swept meadow-land ? ******* Oh, who can sound the human breast ? And this strange truth must be confessed That city do I love the best Wherein my heart was heaviest ! Moods and Thoughts. In the Black Forest. T LAY beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, an