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Amy Lowell: An Opera House

An Opera HouseWithin the gold square of the proscenium arch, A curtain of orange velvet hangs in stiff folds, Its tassels jarring slightly when someone crosses the stage behind. Gold carving…

Amy Lowell: Battledore and Shuttlecock

Battledore and ShuttlecockThe shuttlecock soars upward In a parabola of whiteness, Turns, And sinks to a perfect arc. Plat! the battledore strikes it, And it rises again, Without haste,…

Amy Lowell: Breakfast Table

Breakfast TableIn the fresh-washed sunlight, the breakfast table is decked and white. It offers itself in flat surrender, tendering tastes, and smells, and colours, and metals, and grains,…

Amy Lowell: Garden Games

Garden GamesThe tall clock is striking twelve; And the little girls stop in the hall to watch it, And the big ships rocking in a half-circle Above the dial. Twelve o'clock! Down the side…

Amy Lowell: Lead Soldiers

Lead SoldiersThe nursery fire burns brightly, crackling in cheerful little explosions and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney. Miniature rockets peppering the black bricks with…

Amy Lowell: Midday and Afternoon

Midday and AfternoonSwirl of crowded streets. Shock and recoil of traffic. The stock-still brick facade of an old church, against which the waves of people lurch and withdraw. Flare of…

Amy Lowell: Night and Sleep

Night and SleepThe day takes her ease in slippered yellow. Electric signs gleam out along the shop fronts, following each other. They grow, and grow, and blow into patterns of fire-flowers…

Amy Lowell: Number 3 on the Docket

Number 3 on the DocketThe lawyer, are you? Well! I ain't got nothin' to say. Nothin'! I told the perlice I hadn't nothin'. They know'd real well 'twas me. Ther warn't no supposin', Ketchin'…

Amy Lowell: Off the Turnpike

Off the TurnpikeGood ev'nin', Mis' Priest. I jest stepped in to tell you Good-bye. Yes, it's all over. All my things is packed An' every last one o' them boxes Is on Bradley's team Bein'…