Amy Lowell

(9 February 1874 – 12 May 1925 / Boston, Massachusetts)

Amy Lowell Poems

1. A Poet's Wife 4/14/2015
2. On The Mantelpiece 4/16/2015
3. The Camellia Tree of Matsue 8/9/2016
4. The Congressional Library 1/17/2015
5. Red slippers 4/17/2015
6. Fireworks 11/14/2015
7. Night Clouds 4/6/2015
8. Stravinsky's Three Pieces 4/16/2010
9. Francis Ii, King Of Naples 1/3/2003
10. Towns In Colour 4/16/2010
11. The Fruit Shop 4/16/2010
12. The Hammers 4/16/2010
13. The Pond 12/2/2003
14. The Exeter Road 4/16/2010
15. Nuit Blanche 4/16/2010
16. J--K. Huysmans 1/3/2003
17. La Vie De Boheme 4/16/2010
18. Clear, With Light, Variable Winds 4/16/2010
19. In Answer To A Request 4/16/2010
20. Fringed Gentians 1/3/2003
21. Miscast I 4/16/2010
22. The Boston Athenaeum 4/16/2010
23. Late September 4/16/2010
24. Off The Turnpike 4/16/2010
25. The Precinct. Rochester 4/16/2010
26. Malmaison 4/16/2010
27. The Grocery 4/16/2010
28. November 4/16/2010
29. On Carpaccio's Picture 1/3/2003
30. Reaping 4/16/2010
31. Bullion 4/16/2010
32. The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde 4/16/2010
33. The Coal Picker 4/16/2010
34. Obligation 4/16/2010
35. The Red Lacquer Music-Stand 4/16/2010
36. The Paper Windmill 4/16/2010
37. Fool's Money Bags 4/16/2010
38. In A Time Of Dearth 4/16/2010
39. Crepuscule Du Matin 1/3/2003
40. Middle Age 4/16/2010
Best Poem of Amy Lowell

Patterns

I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink ...

Read the full of Patterns

Opal

You are ice and fire,
The touch of you burns my hands like snow.
You are cold and flame.
You are the crimson of amaryllis,
The silver of moon-touched magnolias.
When I am with you,
My heart is a frozen pond
Gleaming with agitated torches.


Submitted by Venus

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