Amy Lowell

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

Amy Lowell Poems

81. Wind 4/16/2010
82. To-Morrow To Fresh Woods And Pastures New 4/16/2010
83. Haunted 4/16/2010
84. 1777 4/16/2010
85. The Promise Of The Morning Star 1/3/2003
86. The Allies 4/16/2010
87. To A Husband 4/16/2010
88. Irony 4/16/2010
89. In A Garden 4/16/2010
90. Sea Shell 4/16/2010
91. Storm-Racked 4/16/2010
92. Lilacs 4/16/2010
93. The Shadow 4/16/2010
94. The Matrix 1/3/2003
95. Grotesque 4/16/2010
96. The Fool Errant 1/3/2003
97. The Artist 4/16/2010
98. A Roxbury Garden 4/16/2010
99. Monadnock In Early Spring 1/3/2003
100. The Foreigner 4/16/2010
101. Stupidity 4/16/2010
102. Loon Point 1/3/2003
103. Aliens 4/16/2010
104. Happiness 4/16/2010
105. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H. 1/3/2003
106. March Evening 1/3/2003
107. The Bombardment 4/16/2010
108. Women's Harvest Song 1/3/2003
109. Patience 4/16/2010
110. Fragment 1/3/2003
111. Epitaph Of A Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success 4/16/2010
112. A Tulip Garden 4/16/2010
113. Anticipation 4/16/2010
114. The Travelling Bear 4/16/2010
115. A Petition 4/16/2010
116. After Hearing A Waltz By Bartok 4/16/2010
117. The Giver Of Stars 4/16/2010
118. A Ballad Of Footmen 4/16/2010
119. Mirage 1/3/2003
120. Music 4/16/2010

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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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