Amy Lowell

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

Amy Lowell Poems

1. Red slippers 4/17/2015
2. The Congressional Library 1/17/2015
3. Night Clouds 4/6/2015
4. On The Mantelpiece 4/16/2015
5. A Poet's Wife 4/14/2015
6. Stravinsky's Three Pieces 4/16/2010
7. Francis Ii, King Of Naples 1/3/2003
8. The Fruit Shop 4/16/2010
9. The Hammers 4/16/2010
10. Towns In Colour 4/16/2010
11. Fringed Gentians 1/3/2003
12. The Pond 12/2/2003
13. Free Fantasia On Japanese Themes 4/16/2010
14. The Exeter Road 4/16/2010
15. Nuit Blanche 4/16/2010
16. J--K. Huysmans 1/3/2003
17. Reaping 4/16/2010
18. La Vie De Boheme 4/16/2010
19. Bullion 4/16/2010
20. Clear, With Light, Variable Winds 4/16/2010
21. In Answer To A Request 4/16/2010
22. Convalescence 4/16/2010
23. The Road To Avignon 1/3/2003
24. Miscast I 4/16/2010
25. Epitaph In A Church-Yard In Charleston, South Carolina 1/3/2003
26. The Boston Athenaeum 4/16/2010
27. Late September 4/16/2010
28. Off The Turnpike 4/16/2010
29. The Precinct. Rochester 4/16/2010
30. Flute-Priest Song For Rain 4/16/2010
31. Malmaison 4/16/2010
32. The Grocery 4/16/2010
33. November 4/16/2010
34. On Carpaccio's Picture 1/3/2003
35. The Coal Picker 4/16/2010
36. The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde 4/16/2010
37. The Red Lacquer Music-Stand 4/16/2010
38. Obligation 4/16/2010
39. The Paper Windmill 4/16/2010
40. Fool's Money Bags 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

Apology

Be not angry with me that I bear
   Your colours everywhere,
   All through each crowded street,
   And meet
   The wonder-light in every eye,
   As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,
   Blinded by rainbow haze,

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