Poems by Amy Lowell
September, 1918
... And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows ...
Nuit Blanche
... Cuddling the flowers and trees which burn like glass ...
The Broken Fountain
... The beech leaves cover her with a golden counter-pane ...
Lilacs
... You are of elm-shaded streets with little shops where they sell kites and marbles, ...
Middle Age
... Scrolled over with unintelligible patterns ...
The Letter
... Your silly quirks and twists have nothing ...
Towns in Colour
... and reveal a wax doll, with staring bead eyes and flaxen hair, lolling awkwardly in its flower chair ...
Opal
... The touch of you burns my hands like snow ...
Venus Transiens
... To cover your too great loveliness ...
The Garden By Moonlight
... Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring, ...
Thompsons Lunch RoomGrand Central Station
... Ice-green carboys, shiftinggreener, bluerwith the jar of moving water ...
Thompson’s Lunch Room—Grand Central Station
... A spoon falls upon the floor with the impact of metal striking stone, ...
Dreams in War Time
... And the tail was spotted scarlet like a tiger-lily, ...
To a Husband
... Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River ...
Granadilla
... And only when the blood runs out across my fingers ...
