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Amy Lowell: The Fool Errant
The Fool ErrantThe Fool Errant sat by the highway of life And his gaze wandered up and his gaze wandered down, A vigorous youth, but with no wish to walk, Yet his longing was great for the…Amy Lowell: The Green Bowl
The Green BowlThis little bowl is like a mossy pool In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees; A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,…Amy Lowell: The Lamp of Life
The Lamp of LifeAlways we are following a light, Always the light recedes; with groping hands We stretch toward this glory, while the lands We journey through are hidden from our sight Dim…Amy Lowell: The Little Garden
The Little GardenA little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The sun's pale glow Is scarcely able to melt patches wide About…Amy Lowell: The Painted Ceiling
The Painted CeilingMy Grandpapa lives in a wonderful house With a great many windows and doors, There are stairs that go up, and stairs that go down, And such beautiful, slippery floors.But…Amy Lowell: The Road to Avignon
The Road to AvignonA Minstrel stands on a marble stair, Blown by the bright wind, debonair; Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor, Above on the terrace a turret door Frames a lady, listless…Amy Lowell: To an Early Daffodil
To an Early DaffodilThou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring! Thou herald of rich Summer's myriad flowers! The climbing sun with new recovered powers Does warm thee into being, through the…Amy Lowell: To John Keats
To John KeatsGreat master! Boyish, sympathetic man! Whose orbed and ripened genius lightly hung From life's slim, twisted tendril and there swung In crimson-sphered completeness; guardian…Amy Lowell: Venetian Glass
Venetian GlassAs one who sails upon a wide, blue sea Far out of sight of land, his mind intent Upon the sailing of his little boat, On tightening ropes and shaping fair his course, Hears…Amy Lowell: Venus Transiens
Venus TransiensAmy LowellTell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves, Drifting shoreward On her plaited shell? Was Botticelli's vision Fairer than mine…Trending
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