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
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.
gowns up-and-down
I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
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 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...
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.
blood pay coins
Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.
hands ice fire
You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
sacrifice men next
A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
running strong horse
So with the stretch of the white road before me, Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun, Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows, Strong with the strength of my horse as we run. Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight! Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
maturity youth
Youth condemns; maturity condones
self sorrow experience
Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
pain
Even pain pricks to livelier living.
cancer progress disease
Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
beautiful moon night
How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree; The moon Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection?