Quote

Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin, A basin in the midst of hedges grown So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding, But she guesses he is near, And the sliding of the water Seems the stroking of a dear Hand upon her.

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
Upon
Thick
Sliding
Water
Lover
Gown
Woman
Midst
Gowns
Hands
Grown
Bathing
Stiffened
Cannot
Near
Softness
Hedges
Seems
Lovers
Marble
Stroking
Dear
Underneath
Basin
Hand
Hiding
Guesses

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me,and drench me in loneliness.
Amy Lowell
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This is America, This vast, confused beauty, This staring, restless speed of loveliness, Mighty, overwhelming, crude, of all forms, Making grandeur out of profusion, Afraid of no incongruities, Sublime in its audacity, Bizarre breaker of moulds.
Amy Lowell
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You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
Amy Lowell
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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.
Amy Lowell
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This is war: Boys flung into a breach Like shoveled earth And old men, Broken, Driving rapidly before crowds of people In a glitter of silly decorations. Behind the boys And the old men, Life weeps, And shreds her garments To the blowing winds.
Amy Lowell
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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
Amy Lowell
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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
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Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England ... Lilacs in dooryards Holding quiet conversation with an early moon Lilacs watching a deserted house ... Lilacs, wind-beaten, staggering under a lopsided shock of bloom, You are everywhere.
Amy Lowell
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In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.
Amy Lowell
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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.
Amy Lowell
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All recurring joy is pain refined.
Amy Lowell
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How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree The moon Wavering across a bed of tulips The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection?
Amy Lowell
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Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
Amy Lowell
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The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
Amy Lowell
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So with the stretch of the white road before me, Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun, Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows, Strong with the strength of my horse as we run. Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight! Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
Amy Lowell
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A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
Amy Lowell
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Even pain pricks to livelier living.
Amy Lowell
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Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.
Amy Lowell
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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell
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Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
Amy Lowell