James Russell Lowell

(22 February 1819 – 12 August 1891 / Cambridge, Massachusetts)

Comments about James Russell Lowell

  • tufyiyotru (9/14/2019 2:02:00 PM)

    My ­n­e­i­g­h­b­or's ­m­ot­h­er ­m­A­k­es $64 ­h­our­ly ­o­n t­h­e ­l­A­pt­o­p. S­h­e ­h­As ­b­e­e­n ­out ­o­f w­or­k ­f­or ­f­iv­e ­m­o­nt­hs ­but ­l­Ast ­m­o­nt­h ­h­er ­p­Ay­m­e­nt w­As $15080 just w­or­k­i­n­g ­o­n t­h­e l­A­pt­o­p ­f­or ­A ­f­ew ­h­ours. ­g­o t­o t­h­is w­e­b s­it­e ­A­n­d r­e­A­d ­m­or­e ­g­o t­o t­h­is s­it­e ­h­o­m­e t­A­b ­f­or ­m­or­e ­d­et­A­i­l............HERE======►► www.more.cash61.com ★★★COPY THIS SITE★★★

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Elizabeth Pierce (6/9/2019 7:21:00 AM)

    James Russell Lowell ‘s poems speak volumes to me.

    0 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Hal Wheeler (5/5/2019 7:29:00 PM)

    Mr. Lowell wrote a short poem for Grover Cleveland that began with: " Let who has felt compute the strain of struggle with abuses strong. I have memorized it but why can't I find it among his poems, listed here?

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • XXXTENTACION (3/14/2019 12:59:00 AM)

    Yooo just saw my boi James Russell in heaven broo

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Marge Gogin (2/12/2019 5:05:00 PM)

    I have an old copy of works by Lowell - It is inscribed " To Will H. White, From Warren Hubbard, June 13th,1911" . It has gold leafing on ole leather cover. It is Poems of James Russell Lowell with biographical Sketch by Nathan Haskell Dole. Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. publishers. Copywright,1892,1898. I was just wondering if this copy is worth anything. I can be reached at margegogin@gmail.com.

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • David Powell (7/22/2018 12:56:00 PM)

    “The First Snowfall” is about Lowell’s thinking of the snow coverering his daughter’s grave at Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge MA where he, too, is buried. This is the poem that Mevelyn is referring to. “She Came and Went” which is about life’s brevity and the little time we have with each other is about the same passing of his daughter.

    5 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Fran Morgan (3/15/2018 1:47:00 PM)

    I’m looking for a poem by James Russell Lowell that he wrote about his daughters death.

    5 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • Fran Morgsn (3/15/2018 1:45:00 PM)

    “ there’s a narrow ridge in the graveyard
    Would scarce......
    ———-/—/—————-/-
    Immortal? I know it and feel it.
    Who doubts it of such as she?
    But that is the pang’s very Secret
    Immortal.. away from me.

    5 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Mary Skarpathiotaki Mary Skarpathiotaki (1/19/2018 12:30:00 PM)

    EXCELLENT POET GREAT! BRAVO! 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++

    7 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Mevelyn Richardson (12/1/2015 2:23:00 PM)

    I'm looking for the name of a poem by JTL about winter. I remember some words, perhaps not accurate:
    The snow had begun in the gloaming and busily all the night, had been heaping field and byway with a silence deep and bright. Every pine, fir and hemlock wore ermine too deep for an Earl. And the poorest twig on the elm tree was ridged inch deep in pearl.

    6 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
Best Poem of James Russell Lowell

Above And Below

I

O dwellers in the valley-land,
Who in deep twilight grope and cower,
Till the slow mountain's dial-hand
Shorten to noon's triumphal hour,
While ye sit idle, do ye think
The Lord's great work sits idle too?
That light dare not o'erleap the brink
Of morn, because 'tis dark with you?

Though yet your valleys skulk in night,
In God's ripe fields the day is cried,
And reapers, with their sickles bright,
Troop, singing, down the mountain-side:
Come up, and feel what health there is
In the frank Dawn's delighted eyes,
As, bending ...

Read the full of Above And Below

Sonnet

The Maple puts her corals on in May,
While loitering frosts about the lowlands cling,
To be in tune with what the robins sing,
Plastering new log-huts 'mid her branches gray;
But when the Autumn southward turns away,
Then in her veins burns most the blood of Spring,
And every leaf, intensely blossoming,
Makes the year's sunset pale the set of day.
O Youth unprescient, were it only so

[Report Error]