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Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H.
© Amy Lowell
How still it is! Sunshine itself here
falls
In quiet shafts of light through the high trees
Which, arching, make a roof above the walls
Pickthorn Manor
© Amy Lowell
I
How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A
steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away, Let drop the
The Red Lacquer Music-Stand
© Amy Lowell
The clock upon the stair
Struck five, and in the kitchen someone shook a grate.
The Boy began to dress, for it was getting late.
Reaping
© Amy Lowell
You want to know what's the matter with me, do yer?
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
It ain't nothin' new, be sure o' that.
Why, ef you'd had eyes you'd ha' seed
From One Who Stays
© Amy Lowell
How empty seems the town now you are gone!
A wilderness of sad streets, where gaunt walls
Hide nothing to desire; sunshine falls
Eery, distorted, as it long had shone
The Paper Windmill
© Amy Lowell
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane
and looked out
at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of
the square
The Cremona Violin
© Amy Lowell
Part First
Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
1777
© Amy Lowell
I
The Trumpet-Vine Arbour
The throats of the little red trumpet-flowers are
wide open,
Hero-Worship
© Amy Lowell
A face seen passing in a crowded street,
A voice heard singing music, large and free;
And from that moment life is changed, and we
Become of more heroic temper, meet
The Way
© Amy Lowell
At 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 lilies float on
A Fairy Tale
© Amy Lowell
On winter nights beside the nursery fire
We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals
Builded its pictures. There before our eyes
We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone
To Minnie
© Robert Louis Stevenson
The red room with the giant bed
Where none but elders laid their head;
The little room where you and I
Did for awhile together lie
Sonnet I
© Robert Louis Stevenson
NOR judge me light, tho' light at times I seem,
And lightly in the stress of fortune bear
The innumerable flaws of changeful care -
Nor judge me light for this, nor rashly deem
Now Bare To The Beholder's Eye
© Robert Louis Stevenson
NOW bare to the beholder's eye
Your late denuded bindings lie,
Subsiding slowly where they fell,
A disinvested citadel;
Behold, As Goblins Dark Of Mien
© Robert Louis Stevenson
BEHOLD, as goblins dark of mien
And portly tyrants dyed with crime
Change, in the transformation scene,
At Christmas, in the pantomime,
Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring
© John Dryden
Ask not the cause why sullen spring
So long delays her flow'rs to bear;
Why warbling birds forget to sing,
And winter storms invert the year?
Chloris is gone; and Fate provides
To make it spring where she resides.
Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music
© John Dryden
Now strike the golden lyre again:
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!
Break his bands of sleep asunder
Ode
© John Dryden
Now all those charms, that blooming grace,
That well-proportioned shape, and beauteous face,
Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes;
In earth the much-lamented virgin lies!
Not wit nor piety could Fate prevent;
Absalom And Achitophel
© John Dryden
Him staggering so when Hell's dire agent found,
While fainting virtue scarce maintain'd her ground,
He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies:
