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The Swans The Swans

The Swans
The swans float and float Along the moat Around the Bishop's garden, And the white clouds push Across a blue sky With edges that seem to draw in and harden. Two slim men of white bronze Beat each with a hammer on the end of a rod The hours of God. Striking a bell, They do it well. And the echoes jump, and tinkle, and swell In the Cathedral's carved stone polygons. The swans float About the moat, And another swan sits still in the air... Poems - Post by : andrewtan94 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2914

Prime Prime

Your voice is like bells over roofs at dawn When a bird flies And the sky changes to a fresher color. Speak, speak, Beloved. Say little things For my ears to catch And run with them to my heart.(The end)Amy Lowell's poem: Prime... Poems - Post by : robre14 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 4171

Vespers Vespers

Last night, at sunset, The foxgloves were like tall altar candles. Could I have lifted you to the roof of the greenhouse, my Dear, I should have understood their burning.(The end)Amy Lowell's poem: Vespers... Poems - Post by : webmarketer - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3710

In Excelsis In Excelsis

In Excelsis
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 of light from a rising sun; It is the hopping of birds upon a garden-path. As the perfume of jonquils, you come forth in the morning. Young horses are not more sudden than your thoughts, Your words are bees about a pear-tree, Your fancies are the gold-and-black striped wasps buzzing among red apples. I... Poems - Post by : bwise - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 4210

La Ronde Du Diable La Ronde Du Diable

La Ronde Du Diable
"Here we go round the ivy-bush," And that's a tune we all dance to. Little poet people snatching ivy, Trying to prevent one another from snatching ivy. If you get a leaf, there's another for me; Look at the bush. But I want your leaf, Brother, and you mine, Therefore, of course, we push. "Here we go round the laurel-tree." Do we want laurels for ourselves most, Or most that no one else shall have any? We cannot stop to discuss the question. We cannot stop to plait them... Poems - Post by : brandon246135 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2488

Twenty-four Hokku On A Modern Theme Twenty-four Hokku On A Modern Theme

Twenty-four Hokku On A Modern Theme
I Again the larkspur, Heavenly blue in my garden. They, at least, unchanged. II How have I hurt you? You look at me with pale eyes, But these are my tears. III Morning and evening-- Yet for us once long ago Was no division. IV I hear many words. Set an hour when I may come Or remain silent. V... Poems - Post by : smartguys04 - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3059

Lilacs Lilacs

Lilacs, False blue, White, Purple, Color of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England. Among your heart-shaped leaves Orange orioles hop like music-box birds and sing Their little weak soft songs; In the crooks of your branches The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs Peer restlessly through the light and shadow Of all Springs. Lilacs in dooryards Holding quiet conversations with an early moon; Lilacs watching a deserted house Settling sideways into the grass of... Poems - Post by : waynz - Date : September 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2452

A Tulip Garden A Tulip Garden

A Tulip Garden
Guarded within the old red wall's embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace! Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry, With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye Of purple batteries, every gun in place. Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread, With torches burning, stepping out in time To some quick, unheard... Poems - Post by : Stephania - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2210

A Lady A Lady

A Lady
You are beautiful and faded Like an old opera tune Played upon a harpsichord; Or like the sun-flooded silks Of an eighteenth-century boudoir. In your eyes Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes, And the perfume of your soul Is vague and suffusing, With the pungence of sealed spice-jars. Your half-tones delight me, And I grow mad with gazing At your blent colours. My vigour is a new-minted penny, Which I cast at... Poems - Post by : HyperToViper - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3488

Aubade Aubade

As I would free the white almond from the green husk So would I strip your trappings off, Beloved. And fingering the smooth and polished kernel I should see that in my hands glittered a gem beyond counting.(The end)Amy Lowell's poem: Aubade... Poems - Post by : EJ_Lear - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 4043

White And Green White And Green

White And Green
Hey! My daffodil-crowned, Slim and without sandals! As the sudden spurt of flame upon darkness So my eyeballs are startled with you, Supple-limbed youth among the fruit-trees, Light runner through tasselled orchards. You are an almond flower unsheathed Leaping and flickering between the budded branches.(The end)Amy Lowell's poem: White And Green... Poems - Post by : walmergreen - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3265

The Blue Scarf The Blue Scarf

The Blue Scarf
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 is she, the woman who wore it? The scent of her lingers and drugs me! A languor, fire-shotted, runs through me, and I crush the scarf down on my face, And gulp in the warmth and the blueness, and my eyes swim in cool-tinted heavens. Around me... Poems - Post by : Scott_Shields - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 1635

The Pike The Pike

The Pike
In the brown water, Thick and silver-sheened in the sunshine, Liquid and cool in the shade of the reeds, A pike dozed. Lost among the shadows of stems He lay unnoticed. Suddenly he flicked his tail, And a green-and-copper brightness Ran under the water. Out from under the reeds Came the olive-green light, And orange flashed up Through the sun-thickened water. So the fish passed across the pool, Green and copper,... Poems - Post by : mrushing - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3227

Late September Late September

Late September
Tang of fruitage in the air; Red boughs bursting everywhere; Shimmering of seeded grass; Hooded gentians all a'mass. Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind Tearing off the husky rind, Blowing feathered seeds to fall By the sun-baked, sheltering wall. Beech trees in a golden haze; Hardy sumachs all ablaze, Glowing through the silver birches. How that pine tree shouts and lurches! From the sunny door-jamb high, Swings the shell of a butterfly. Scrape... Poems - Post by : gnash - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2911

The Exeter Road The Exeter Road

The Exeter Road
Panels of claret and blue which shine Under the moon like lees of wine. A coronet done in a golden scroll, And wheels which blunder and creak as they roll Through the muddy ruts of a moorland track. They daren't look back! They are whipping and cursing the horses. Lord! What brutes men are when they think they're scored. Behind, my bay gelding gallops with me, In a steaming sweat, it is fine to see That... Poems - Post by : chucky52 - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3489

The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde

The Book Of Hours Of Sister Clotilde
The Bell in the convent tower swung. High overhead the great sun hung, A navel for the curving sky. The air was a blue clarity. Swallows flew, And a cock crew. The iron clanging sank through the light air, Rustled over with blowing branches. A flare Of spotted green, and a snake had gone Into the bed where the snowdrops shone In green new-started,... Poems - Post by : jtegan - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3066

In A Castle In A Castle

In A Castle
I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip--hiss--drip--hiss-- fall the raindrops on the oaken log which burns, and steams, and smokes the ceiling beams. Drip--hiss--the rain never stops. The wide, state bed shivers beneath its velvet coverlet. Above, dim, in the smoke, a tarnished coronet gleams dully. Overhead hammers and chinks the rain. Fearfully wails the wind down distant corridors, and there comes the swish and sigh of rushes lifted off the floors. The arras blows sidewise out from the wall, and then falls back again. It is my lady's key, confided with much... Poems - Post by : olujoe - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2602

The Basket The Basket

The Basket
I The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted, in the round of light thrown by a candle. Puffs of darkness sweep into the corners, and keep rolling through the room behind his chair. The air is silver and pearl, for the night is liquid with moonlight. See how the roof glitters, like ice! Over there, a slice of yellow cuts into the silver-blue, and beside it stand two geraniums, purple because the light is silver-blue, to-night. See! She is coming, the young woman with the bright hair. She swings a basket as... Poems - Post by : imported_n/a - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 2432

Clear, With Light, Variable Winds Clear, With Light, Variable Winds

Clear, With Light, Variable Winds
The fountain bent and straightened itself In the night wind, Blowing like a flower. It gleamed and glittered, A tall white lily, Under the eye of the golden moon. From a stone seat, Beneath a blossoming lime, The man watched it. And the spray pattered On the dim grass at his feet. The fountain tossed its water, Up and up, like silver marbles. Is that an arm he sees? And for one moment... Poems - Post by : SwingWinger - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 1684

After Hearing A Waltz By Bartok After Hearing A Waltz By Bartok

After Hearing A Waltz By Bartok
But why did I kill him? Why? Why? In the small, gilded room, near the stair? My ears rack and throb with his cry, And his eyes goggle under his hair, As my fingers sink into the fair White skin of his throat. It was I! I killed him! My God! Don't you hear? I shook him until his red tongue Hung flapping out through the black, queer, Swollen lines of his lips.... Poems - Post by : Ian_Traynor - Date : June 2011 - Author : Amy Lowell - Read : 3253