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.
London In July
Amy Levy
(1)
Poem topics: city, heart, july, people, sea, sky, woman, wide, place, town, brown, face, square, waste, beneath, stream, crowd, intricate, london, love, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about London In July poem by Amy Levy
Best Poems of Amy Levy