Amy Lowell Poems on Faces (20 Poems)

The Blue Scarf (Amy Lowell Poem)

Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes, it lies there, Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders, and my fingers close on it, caressing. Where … Continue reading →

The Paper Windmill (Amy Lowell Poem)

The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced and pranced, and shook drops of sunlight like falling … Continue reading →

The Cremona Violin (Amy Lowell Poem)

Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door. A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind The distant town was black, and sharp … Continue reading →

The Shadow (Amy Lowell Poem)

Paul Jannes was working very late, For this watch must be done by eight To-morrow or the Cardinal Would certainly be vexed. Of all His customers the old prelate Was the most important, for his state Descended to his watches … Continue reading →

Nightmare: A Tale for an Autumn Evening (Amy Lowell Poem)

After a Print by George Cruikshank It was a gusty night, With the wind booming, and swooping, Looping round corners, Sliding over the cobble-stones, Whipping and veering, And careering over the roofs Like a thousand clattering horses. Mr. Spruggins had … Continue reading →

The Foreigner (Amy Lowell Poem)

Have at you, you Devils! My back’s to this tree, For you’re nothing so nice That the hind-side of me Would escape your assault. Come on now, all three! Here’s a dandified gentleman, Rapier at point, And a wrist which … Continue reading →

A Roxbury Garden (Amy Lowell Poem)

I Hoops Blue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop. Up and down the garden-paths they race, In the yellow sunshine, Each with a big round hoop White as a … Continue reading →

Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (Amy Lowell Poem)

A drifting, April, twilight sky, A wind which blew the puddles dry, And slapped the river into waves That ran and hid among the staves Of an old wharf. A watery light Touched bleak the granite bridge, and white Without … Continue reading →

The Taxi (Amy Lowell Poem)

When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum. I call out for you against the jutted stars And shout into the ridges of the wind. Streets coming fast, One after the other, Wedge you … Continue reading →

A Fairy Tale (Amy Lowell Poem)

On winter nights beside the nursery fire We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals Builded its pictures. There before our eyes We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone Uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung With pendent stalactites like … Continue reading →