Archive for November 6th, 2013

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Epitaph (On a Commonplace Person Who Died in Bed) by Amy Levy

This is the end of him, here he lies:
The dust in his throat, the worm in his eyes,
The mould in his mouth, the turf on his breast;
This is the end of him, this is best.
He will never lie on his couch awake,
Wide‐eyed, tearless, till dim daybreak.
Never again will he smile and smile
When his heart is breaking all the while.
He will never stretch out his hands in vain
Groping and groping—never again.
Never ask for bread, get a stone instead,
Never pretend that the stone is bread.
Never sway and sway ’twixt the false and true,
Weighing and noting the long hours through.
Never ache and ache with the chok’d‐up sighs;
This is the end of him, here he lies.

From: Levy, Amy, A Minor Poet and Other Verses, 1891, T Fisher Unwin: London, p. 88.

Date: 1884

By: Amy Levy (1861-1889)