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Amy Lowell: The Poet

The PoetWhat instinct forces man to journey on, Urged by a longing blind but dominant! Nothing he sees can hold him, nothing daunt His never failing eagerness. The sun Setting in splendour…

Amy Lowell: The Starling

The Starling“I can't get out”, said the starling. Sterne's Sentimental Journey. Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebellious soul, I never see the towering white clouds…

Amy Lowell: The Trout

The TroutNaughty little speckled trout, Can't I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day?Do you pull the Naiads' hair Hiding in the lilies there? Do you hunt…

Amy Lowell: The Way

The WayAt first a mere thread of a footpath half blotted out by the grasses Sweeping triumphant across it, it wound between hedges of roses Whose blossoms were poised above leaves as pond…

Amy Lowell: To a Friend

To a FriendI ask but one thing of you, only one, That always you will be my dream of you; That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on, Forever vanished,…

Amy Lowell: Wind

WindHe shouts in the sails of the ships at sea, He steals the down from the honeybee, He makes the forest trees rustle and sing, He twirls my kite till it breaks its string. Laughing,…

Amy Lowell: An Aquarium

An AquariumStreaks of green and yellow iridescence, Silver shiftings, Rings veering out of rings, Silver — gold — Grey-green opaqueness sliding down, With sharp white bubbles Shooting and…

Amy Lowell: Bath

BathThe day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air.The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-tub in…

Amy Lowell: Hoops

HoopsBlue and pink sashes, Criss-cross shoes, Minna and Stella run out into the garden To play at hoop.Up and down the garden-paths they race, In the yellow sunshine, Each with a big round…