IN THE MILE-END ROAD.
George H. Ellwanger
H
OW like her! But ’tis she herself
Comes up the crowded street;
How little did I think, the morn,
My only love to meet!
Whose else that motion and that mien?
Whose else that airy tread?
For one strange moment I forgot
My only love was dead.
Amy Levy.
Clyx.com
