Poems by Amy Lowell

Panels of claret and blue which shine
Under the moon like lees of wine.
A coronet done in a gol...

On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded i...

The snow whispers about me,
And my wooden clogs
Leave holes behind me in the snow.
But no one...

Stupefy my heart to every day's monotony,
Seal up my eyes, I would not look so f...

What torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant, and however kind,
However...

The Fool Errant sat by the highway of life
And his gaze wandered up and his gaze w...

Outside the long window,
With his head on the stone sill,
The dog is lying,
Gazing at his B...

Have at you, you Devils!
My back's to this tree,
For you're nothing so nice
That the hind-si...

Holy Mother of God, Merciful Mary. Hear me! I am very weary. I have come
from a village miles a...

What is poetry? Is it a mosaic
Of coloured stones which curiously are wrought
Into a pattern? R...

Poor foolish monarch, vacillating, vain,
Decaying victim of a race of kings,
Swift Destiny ...

My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings
Vibrate most readily to minor chords,
Searching ...

I thought: --
The moon,
Shining upon the many steps of the palace before me,
Shines also upo...

How empty seems the town now you are gone!
A wilderness of sad streets, where gaunt walls
Hide...

The path runs straight between the flowering rows,
A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds of bloom,...