Let the words of Amy Levy take you on a journey through London. A love poem, about a lost love in the city.
About London in July
The London that Levy describes isn’t the same London as we know this city. It isn’t even the same city that Levy lived to experience (the nineteenth century). No, this is a city, where she is forced to see her love leave in July. Sixteen lines of agony. Beautifully written, timeless therefore.
London in July
By Amy Levy
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;
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.