Poems by Amy Lowell

Walking beside the tree-peonies,
I saw a beetle
Whose wings were of black lacquer spotted with...

I Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip -- hiss -- drip -- hiss --
fall the raindrops on...

Gushing from the mouths of stone men
To spread at ease under the sky
In granite-lipped basins, ...

I The Trumpet-Vine Arbour The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are wide open,
And th...

My cup is empty to-night,
Cold and dry are its sides,
Chilled by the wind from the open windo...

You walk under the ice trees.
They sway, and crackle,
And arch themselves splendidly
To deck...

But why did I kill him? Why? Why?
In the small, gilded room, near the stair?
My ears rack and...

I learnt to write to you in happier days,
And every letter was a piece I chipped
From off my h...

Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls,
Slant lines of black rain
In front of the up and d...

I have been temperate always,
But I am like to be very drunk
With your coming.
There have bee...

Be not angry with me that I bear
Your colours everywhere,
All thro...

Glinting golden through the trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Through the moon-pierce...

Streaks of green and yellow iridescence,
Silver shiftings,
Rings veering out of rings,
Silv...

A bird chirped at my window this morning,
And over the sky is drawn a light net-work of clouds....

The wind is singing through the trees to-night,
A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences
And cra...