Robert Lowell Poems
|2.||July In Washington||3/26/2015|
|4.||Sailing Home From Rapallo||4/8/2010|
|5.||My Last Afternoon With Uncle Devereux Winslow||4/8/2010|
|6.||Falling Asleep Over The Aeneid||4/8/2010|
|7.||Mr. Edwards And The Spider||4/8/2010|
|8.||After The Surprising Conversions||4/8/2010|
|9.||To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage||1/3/2003|
|10.||Waking In The Blue||1/3/2003|
|12.||Man And Wife||1/3/2003|
|13.||Home After Three Months Away||1/3/2003|
|14.||The Drunken Fisherman||1/3/2003|
|17.||"To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage&Quot;||1/20/2003|
|19.||The Quaker Graveyard In Nantucket||1/3/2003|
|20.||Memories Of West Street And Lepke||1/3/2003|
|22.||Children Of Light||1/3/2003|
|23.||For The Union Dead||1/3/2003|
|24.||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!
Man And Wife
Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother's bed;
the rising sun in war paint dyes us red;
in broad daylight her gilded bed-posts shine,
abandoned, almost Dionysian.
At last the trees are green on Marlborough Street,
blossoms on our magnolia ignite
the morning with their murderous five day's white.
All night I've held your hand,
as if you had