Amy Lowell Poems on Water (35 Poems)

Towns in Colour (Amy Lowell Poems)

I Red Slippers Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the street, flaws of grey,windy sleet! Behind the polished glass, the slippers hang in long threads of red,festooning from the ceiling like stalactites of blood, flooding the eyesof passers-by … Continue reading →

Stravinsky’s (Amy Lowell Poems)

First Movement Thin-voiced, nasal pipesDrawing sound out and outUntil it is a screeching thread,Sharp and cutting, sharp and cutting,It hurts.Whee-e-e!Bump! Bump! Tong-ti-bump!There are drums here,Banging,And wooden shoes beating the round, grey stonesOf the market-place.Whee-e-e!Sabots slapping the worn, old stones,And a … Continue reading →

In A Time Of Dearth (Amy Lowell Poems)

Before me,On either side of me,I see sand.If I turn the corner of my house,I see sand,Long, brownLines and levels of flatSand. If I could only see a caravanHeave over the edge of it:The camels wobbling and swaying,Stepping like ostriches,With … Continue reading →

In Excelsis (Amy Lowell Poems)

You — you — Your shadow is sunlight on a plate of silver; Your footsteps, the seeding-place of lilies; Your hands moving, a chime of bells across a windless air. The movement of your hands is the long, golden running … Continue reading →

Thompson’s Lunch Room-Grand Central Station (Amy Lowell Poems)

STUDY IN WHITES Wax-white- Floor, ceiling, walls. Ivory shadows Over the pavement Polished to cream surfaces By constant sweeping. The big room is coloured like the petals Of a great magnolia, And has a patina Of flower bloom Which makes … Continue reading →

The Garden By Moonlight (Amy Lowell Poems)

A black cat among roses, Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon, The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still, It is dazed with moonlight, Contented with perfume, Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies. … Continue reading →

Bath (Amy Lowell Poems)

The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in lathes and … Continue reading →

Orange Of Midsummer (Amy Lowell Poems)

You came to me in the pale starting of Spring,And I could not see the worldFor the blue mist of wonder before my eyes.You beckoned me over a rainbow bridge,And I set foot upon it, trembling.Through pearl and saffron I … Continue reading →

September, 1918 (Amy Lowell Poems)

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight; The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves; The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves, And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows. Under … Continue reading →

The Artist (Amy Lowell Poems)

Why do you subdue yourself in golds and purples? Why do you dim yourself with folded silks? Do you not see that I can buy brocades in any draper’s shop, And that I am choked in the twilight of all … Continue reading →