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Amy Levy - To Lallie (Outside the British Museum)
Work rating: Medium

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.

There was a friend, my friend, with you;
A meagre dame in peacock blue
                             Apparelled quaintly:

This poet-heart went pit-a-pat;
I bowed and smiled and raised my hat;
                           You nodded—faintly.

My heart was full as full could be;
You had not got a word for me,
                           Not one short greeting;

That nonchalant small nod you gave
(The tyrant`s motion to the slave)
                           Sole mark`d our meeting.

Is it so long? Do you forget
That first and last time that we met?
                           The time was summer.

The trees were green; the sky was blue;
Our host presented me to you—
                           A tardy comer.

You look`d demure, but when you spoke
You made a little, funny joke,
                           Yet half pathetic.

Your gown was grey, I recollect,
I think you patronized the sect
                           They call "æsthetic."

I brought you strawberries and cream,
And plied you long about a stream
                           With duckweed laden;

We solemnly discussed the — heat.
I found you shy and very sweet,
                           A rosebud maiden.

Ah me, to-day! You passed inside
To where the marble gods abide:
                           Hermes, Apollo,

Sweet Aphrodite, Pan; and where,
For aye reclined, a headless fair
                           Beats all fairs hollow.

And I, I went upon my way,
Well — rather sadder, let us say;
                           The world looked flatter.

I had been sad enough before,
A little less, a little more,
                           What does it matter?
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