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. 1777 4/16/2010
84. The Allies 4/16/2010
85. To A Husband 4/16/2010
86. Irony 4/16/2010
87. Patience 4/16/2010
88. In A Garden 4/16/2010
89. Sea Shell 4/16/2010
90. Storm-Racked 4/16/2010
91. Lilacs 4/16/2010
92. The Shadow 4/16/2010
93. The Pike 4/16/2010
94. The Matrix 1/3/2003
95. The Fool Errant 1/3/2003
96. A Roxbury Garden 4/16/2010
97. Monadnock In Early Spring 1/3/2003
98. The Foreigner 4/16/2010
99. After Hearing A Waltz By Bartok 4/16/2010
100. The Giver Of Stars 4/16/2010
101. Loon Point 1/3/2003
102. Aliens 4/16/2010
103. Happiness 4/16/2010
104. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H. 1/3/2003
105. March Evening 1/3/2003
106. September, 1918 4/16/2010
107. The Promise Of The Morning Star 1/3/2003
108. Women's Harvest Song 1/3/2003
109. Fragment 1/3/2003
110. Epitaph Of A Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success 4/16/2010
111. A Tulip Garden 4/16/2010
112. The Cremona Violin 4/16/2010
113. Anticipation 4/16/2010
114. The Dinner-Party 4/16/2010
115. A Petition 4/16/2010
116. A Poet's Wife 4/14/2015
117. A Ballad Of Footmen 4/16/2010
118. The Bombardment 4/16/2010
119. Generations 1/3/2003
120. The Painted Ceiling 1/3/2003

Comments about Amy Lowell

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  • Priti (8/7/2018 12:52:00 PM)

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  • Deepanshu zinder (6/19/2018 11:07:00 PM)

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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

Apology

Be not angry with me that I bear
   Your colours everywhere,
   All through each crowded street,
   And meet
   The wonder-light in every eye,
   As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,
   Blinded by rainbow haze,

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