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
broken-heart love-is thinking
Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
life stars night
To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
inspirational life eye
Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?
giving greed earth
Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.
lying shells creeds
I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
running flower nodding
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
heart men soul
Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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.
inspirational life beautiful
Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
softness
Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
intelligent feet desire
To understand Vers libre, one must abandon all desire to find in it the even rhythm of metrical feet. One must allow the lines to flow as they will when read aloud by an intelligent reader.
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.
hair gowns patterns
In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
art emotion form
Great emotion always tends to become rhythmic, and out of that tendency the forms of art have been evolved. Art becomes artificial only when the forms take precedence over the emotion.