Amy Lowell

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

Comments about Amy Lowell

  • bugnisekne (9/14/2019 2:34:00 PM)

    My last month paycheck was for 11000 dollars… All i did was simple online work from comfort at home for 3-4 hours/day that I got from this agency I discovered over the internet and they paid me for it 95 bucks every hour.... Here ======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Alisha Javed (7/2/2019 7:42:00 AM)

    um.... i am very very sorry i am not Alia Bhatt i am Alisha Javed i live in Karachi again i am very very sorry i hope you will accept my sorry i really like this website

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • alisha javed (7/2/2019 7:39:00 AM)

    um.... sorry i am not alia bhatt I am alisha javed again i am verry verry sorry

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • alia bhatt (7/2/2019 7:35:00 AM)

    its a bad website I don't get any information

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Dhanush (9/16/2018 8:25:00 PM)

    It is nicehgjgcbncgj

    1 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
  • Priti (8/7/2018 12:52:00 PM)

    I like this poem very much .i like

    4 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Deepanshu zinder (6/19/2018 11:07:00 PM)

    😍😍😍

    3 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
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

Mirage

How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
No loneliness is this, nor misery,
But great content that these should be the ways
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays,
Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality
Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end;

[Report Error]