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Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.

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
Earth
Joyless
Give
Emblem
Best
Robber
Giving
Emblems
Time
Robbers
Greed
Atheism
Millions

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Even pain pricks to livelier living.
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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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Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
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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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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
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How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
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You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
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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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Everything mortal has moments immortal
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Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
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I never deny poems when they come whatever I am doing, whatever I am writing, I lay it aside and attend to the arriving poem.
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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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To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
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A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
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Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
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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.
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How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
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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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Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
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Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
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