Poems by Amy Lowell

Great master! Boyish, sympathetic man!
Whose orbed and ripened genius lightly hung
From life's...

Dear Bessie, would my tired rhyme
Had force to rise from apathy,
...

Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring!
Thou herald of rich Summer's myriad flowers!
The climb...

I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never sh...

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against...

Between us leapt a gold and scarlet flame.
Into the hollow of the cupped, arched blue
Of Heave...

Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign
To put upon the cover of this book?
Who heard thee...

Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs the...

What charm is yours, you faded old-world tapestries,
Of outworn, childish mysteries,
...

A drifting, April, twilight sky,
A wind which blew the puddles dry,
And slapped the river i...

I have painted a picture of a ghost
Upon my kite,
And hung it on a tree.
Later, when I loose...

There once was a man whom the gods didn't love,
And a disagreeable man was he.
He loathed his ...

When you, my Dear, are away, away,
How wearily goes the creeping day.
A year drags after mo...

Softly the water ripples
Against the canoe's curving side,
Softly the birch tree...

They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies...