Amy Lowell

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

Amy Lowell Poems

41. The Letter 1/13/2003
42. The Last Quarter Of The Moon 4/16/2010
43. The Lamp Of Life 1/3/2003
44. The Hammers 4/16/2010
45. The Grocery 4/16/2010
46. The Green Bowl 1/3/2003
47. The Great Adventure Of Max Breuck 4/16/2010
48. The Giver Of Stars 4/16/2010
49. The Garden By Moonlight 1/3/2003
50. The Fruit Shop 4/16/2010
51. The Fruit Garden Path 1/3/2003
52. The Forsaken 4/16/2010
53. The Foreigner 4/16/2010
54. The Fool Errant 1/3/2003
55. The Exeter Road 4/16/2010
56. The End 1/3/2003
57. The Dinner-Party 4/16/2010
58. The Cyclists 4/16/2010
59. The Cross-Roads 4/16/2010
60. The Crescent Moon 1/3/2003
61. The Cremona Violin 4/16/2010
62. The Country House 4/16/2010
63. The Congressional Library 1/17/2015
64. The Coal Picker 4/16/2010
65. The Captured Goddess 4/16/2010
66. The Bungler 1/3/2003
67. The Boston Athenaeum 4/16/2010
68. The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde 4/16/2010
69. The Bombardment 4/16/2010
70. The Blue Scarf 4/16/2010
71. The Basket 4/16/2010
72. The Artist 4/16/2010
73. The Allies 4/16/2010
74. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H. 1/3/2003
75. Sword Blades And Poppy Seed 4/16/2010
76. Sunshine Through A Cobwebbed Window 4/16/2010
77. Summer 1/3/2003
78. Suggested By The Cover Of A Volume Of Keats's Poems 1/3/2003
79. Stupidity 4/16/2010
80. Stravinsky's Three Pieces 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

A Little Song

When you, my Dear, are away, away,
How wearily goes the creeping day.
A year drags after morning, and night
Starts another year of candle light.
O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon!
Grant me, I beg of you, this boon.

Whirl round the earth as never sun
Has his diurnal journey run.

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