Amy Lowell
Amy Lowell
Amy Lawrence Lowellwas an American poet of the imagist school from Brookline, Massachusetts, who posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth9 February 1874
CityBrookline, MA
CountryUnited States of America
missing-you missing-someone heart
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
hands ice fire
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
moments immortal mortals
Everything mortal has moments immortal
i-miss-you missing-you going-away
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
dream flower heart
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.
hands water gowns
Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin, A basin in the midst of hedges grown So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding, But she guesses he is near, And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand upon her.
maturity youth
Youth condemns; maturity condones
sweet cat moon
A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume...
lasts tradition poet
Only those of our poets who kept solidly to the Shakespearean tradition achieved any measure of success. But Keats was the last great exponent of that tradition, and we all know how thin, how lacking in charm, the copies of Keats have become.
sweet tired eye
I must be mad, or very tired, When the curve of a blue bay beyond a railroad track Is shrill and sweet to me like the sudden springing of a tune, And the sight of a white church above thin trees in a city square Amazes my eyes as though it were the Parthenon.
gowns up-and-down
I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
stars heart voice
Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer.
heart men soul
Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
running flower nodding
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.