Amy Lowell

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

The Poet - Poem by Amy Lowell

What instinct forces man to journey on,
Urged by a longing blind but dominant!
Nothing he sees can hold him, nothing daunt
His never failing eagerness. The sun
Setting in splendour every night has won
His vassalage; those towers flamboyant
Of airy cloudland palaces now haunt
His daylight wanderings. Forever done
With simple joys and quiet happiness
He guards the vision of the sunset sky;
Though faint with weariness he must possess
Some fragment of the sunset's majesty;
He spurns life's human friendships to profess
Life's loneliness of dreaming ecstasy.


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Read poems about / on: sunset, journey, happiness, sky, sun, night, life, joy, dream



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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