Amy Lowell

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

Amy Lowell Poems

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

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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

Opal

You are ice and fire,
The touch of you burns my hands like snow.
You are cold and flame.
You are the crimson of amaryllis,
The silver of moon-touched magnolias.
When I am with you,
My heart is a frozen pond
Gleaming with agitated torches.


Submitted by Venus

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