Quote

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
Sweet
Quarters
Lilac
Black
Stock
Dazed
Night
Cat
Contented
Stills
Smell
Smells
Still
Rose
Moonlight
Garden
Quarter
Moon
Roses
Among
Perfume
Scented

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Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
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Poets are always the advance guard of literature the advance guard of life. It is for this reason that their recognition comes so slowly.
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Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
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Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
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Guarded within the old red wall's embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight.
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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
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Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
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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.
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In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
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I must be mad, or very tired, When the curve of a blue bay beyond a railroad track Is shrill and sweet to me like the sudden springing of a tune, And the sight of a white church above thin trees in a city square Amazes my eyes as though it were the Parthenon.
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Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
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All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
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Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented.
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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
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Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
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