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
i-miss-you missing-you going-away
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
moments immortal mortals
Everything mortal has moments immortal
elation stagnation mere
Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.
rose joy opening
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
wall gay soldier
Guarded within the old red wall's embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight.
sunshine may
May is much sunshine through small leaves.
use cadence kind
Polyphonic prose is a kind of free verse, except that it is still freer. Polyphonic makes full use of cadence, rime, alliteration, assonance.
art way hard
How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
beautiful flower scent
My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a shelf. Their shapes are quaint and beautiful, And they have many pleasant colours and lustres To recommend them. Also the scent from them fills the room With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
writing agony creating
I do not suppose that anyone not a poet can realize the agony of creating a poem. Every nerve, even every muscle, seems strained to the breaking point. The poem will not be denied; to refuse to write it would be a greater torture. It tears its way out of the brain, splintering and breaking its passage, and leaves that organ in the state of a jelly-fish when the task is done.
writing poetry arriving
I never deny poems when they come; whatever I am doing, whatever I am writing, I lay it aside and attend to the arriving poem.
men maturity necks
On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.
war silly boys
This is war: Boys flung into a breach Like shoveled earth; And old men, Broken, Driving rapidly before crowds of people In a glitter of silly decorations. Behind the boys And the old men, Life weeps, And shreds her garments To the blowing winds.
soul balance trials
I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.