Amy Lowell: Lilacs
The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs
Peer restlessly through the light and shadow
Of all Springs.
Amy Lowell: Dreams in War Time
I dug a grave under an oak-tree.
With infinite care, I stamped my spade
Into the heavy grass.
Amy Lowell: The Broken Fountain
All day I have watched the purple vine leaves
Fall into the water.
And now in the moonlight they still fall,
But each leaf is fringed with silver.
Amy Lowell: A Decade
When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
John Gould Fletcher: Lincoln
Like a gaunt, scraggly pine
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills;
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence,
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow.
Amy Lowell: Bath
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air.
Amy Lowell: A London Thoroughfare. 2 A.M.
Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
Amy Lowell: The Blue Scarf
Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded
In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes, it lies there,
Warm from a woman’s soft shoulders…
Paul Christensen: Prophecy and Poetry
In 1800, it was possible to imagine what might be turning Europe into a new direction, away from the lingering powers of medieval institutions like the monarchy, the Catholic Church, … Continue reading
