Robert Lowell Poems
|1.||July In Washington||3/26/2015|
|3.||My Last Afternoon With Uncle Devereux Winslow||4/8/2010|
|4.||Sailing Home From Rapallo||4/8/2010|
|5.||Mr. Edwards And The Spider||4/8/2010|
|6.||After The Surprising Conversions||4/8/2010|
|7.||Falling Asleep Over The Aeneid||4/8/2010|
|8.||To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage||1/3/2003|
|9.||Home After Three Months Away||1/3/2003|
|10.||The Drunken Fisherman||1/3/2003|
|12.||Waking In The Blue||1/3/2003|
|13.||The Quaker Graveyard In Nantucket||1/3/2003|
|15.||Man And Wife||1/3/2003|
|17.||"To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage&Quot;||1/20/2003|
|18.||For The Union Dead||1/3/2003|
|19.||Memories Of West Street And Lepke||1/3/2003|
|22.||Children Of Light||1/3/2003|
|23.||The Old Flame||1/3/2003|
The Old Flame
My old flame, my wife!
Remember our lists of birds?
One morning last summer, I drove
by our house in Maine. It was still
on top of its hill -
Now a red ear of Indian maize
was splashed on the door.
Old Glory with thirteen stripes
hung on a pole. The clapboard
was old-red schoolhouse red.
Inside, a new landlord,
a new wife, a new broom!
Atlantic seaboard antique shop
pewter and plunder
shone in each room.
A new frontier!
No running next door
now to phone the sheriff
for his taxi to Bath
and the State Liquor Store!
(for Elizabeth Bishop)
Nautilus Island's hermit
heiress still lives through winter in her Spartan cottage;
her sheep still graze above the sea.
Her son's a bishop. Her farmer is first selectman in our village;
she's in her dotage.