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Amy Levy - To Lallie (Outside the British Museum.)
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   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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