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On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns maturity condones.

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
Maturity
Condones
Enterprise
Sparkles
Youth
Condemns
Young
Sparkle
Men
Gems
Gracious
Neck
Necks

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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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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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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
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All recurring joy is pain refined.
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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
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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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Poets are always the advance guard of literature the advance guard of life. It is for this reason that their recognition comes so slowly.
Amy Lowell
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Everything mortal has moments immortal
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell
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Even pain pricks to livelier living.
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How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
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Youth condemns maturity condones
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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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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
Amy Lowell
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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
Amy Lowell
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Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
Amy Lowell
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Polyphonic prose is a kind of free verse, except that it is still freer. Polyphonic makes full use of cadence, rime, alliteration, assonance.
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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How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
Amy Lowell