Poems by Amy Lowell
Spring Day
... sun to bask. A stack of butter-pats, pyramidal, shout orange through the white, ...
The End
... Not to you. Our worlds are drawn apart, our spirit's suns ...
Fragment
... Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought ...
At Night
... And my mind, O Star! is filled with your white light, from far, ...
Apology
... As I go by. Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze, ...
Hero-Worship
... And from that moment life is changed, and we ...
A Japanese Wood-Carving
... Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back ...
A Blockhead
... When days flashed by, pulsing with joy and fire! ...
Vintage
... And I will pour the cold scorn of my Beloved into it, ...
An Aquarium
... The threaded light prints through them on the pebbles ...
A Roxbury Garden
... Plat! Plat! Yellow heat twines round the handles of the battledores, ...
The Little Garden
... But no, -- For wonder-working faith has made it blow ...
Sword Blades and Poppy Seed
... cascades Of penknives, with handles of mother-of-pearl, ...
Leisure
... When hours were long and days sufficed to hold ...
The Promise of the Morning Star
... All unknown, By me unguessed, by thee not even dreamed, ...
