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Слушать(AI)To Death
(From Lenau.)If within my heart there's mould,
If the flame of
And the flame of Love grow cold,
Slay my body utterly.
Swiftly, pause not nor delay;
Let not my life's field be
With the ash of feelings dead,
Let thy singer soar away.
Amy Levy
Amy Judith Levy (10 November 1861 – 10 September 1889) was a British essayist, poet, and novelist best remembered for her literary gifts; her ex
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London in July
What 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;
XantippeA Fragment
What, have I waked again I never To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey, Dull, solemn stillness, ere the dawn has come
To Lallie Outside the British Museum
Up those Museum steps you came, And straightway all my blood was flame, O Lallie, Lallie The world (I had been feeling low)In one short moment's space did grow A happy valley
In September
The sky is silver-grey; the long Slow waves caress the shore —On such a day as this I have been glad, Who shall be glad no more