Poems by Amy Lowell

All day I have watched the purple vine leaves
Fall into the water.
And now in the moonlight the...

April had covered the hills
With flickering yellows and reds,
The sparkle and coolness of snow...

Now what in the name of the sun and the stars
Is the meaning of this most unholy of wars? ...

I The inkstand is full of ink, and the paper lies white and unspotted,
in the round of light ...

Life! Austere arbiter of each man's fate,
By whom he learns that Nature's steadfast laws
Are a...

Before the Altar, bowed, he stands
With empty hands;
Upon it perfumed offerings burn
Wreath...

I own a solace shut within my heart,
A garden full of many a quaint delight
&nbs...

Before me lies a mass of shapeless days,
Unseparated atoms, and I must
Sort them apart and li...

Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded
In smooth, running...

The Bell in the convent tower swung.
High overhead the great sun hung,
A navel for the curving...

Thou dear and well-loved haunt of happy hours,
How often in some distant gallery,
Gained by a...

The wind has blown a corner of your shawl
Into the fountain,
Where it floats and drifts
Among...

You glow in my heart
Like the flames of uncounted candles.
But when I go to warm my hands,
My...

One night
When there was a clear moon,
I sat down
To write a poem
About maple-trees.
but th...

At Matsue,
There was a Camellia Tree of great beauty
Whose blossoms were white as honey wax
S...