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A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume.
Amy Lowell
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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Night
Cat
Contented
Stills
Smell
Smells
Still
Rose
Moonlight
Garden
Quarter
Moon
Roses
Among
Perfume
Scented
Sweet
Quarters
Lilac
Black
Stock
Dazed
More quotes by Amy Lowell
Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
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Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
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How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
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Only those of our poets who kept solidly to the Shakespearean tradition achieved any measure of success. But Keats was the last great exponent of that tradition, and we all know how thin, how lacking in charm, the copies of Keats have become.
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Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?
Amy Lowell
When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
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Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
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I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
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When trying to explain anything, I usually find that the Bible, that great collection of magnificent and varied poetry, has said it before in the best possible way.
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All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
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Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their of courses Are not quite the same.
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To understand Vers libre, one must abandon all desire to find in it the even rhythm of metrical feet. One must allow the lines to flow as they will when read aloud by an intelligent reader.
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Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer.
Amy Lowell
My words are little jars For you to take and put upon a shelf. Their shapes are quaint and beautiful, And they have many pleasant colours and lustres To recommend them. Also the scent from them fills the room With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
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To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Amy Lowell
Youth condemns maturity condones
Amy Lowell
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell