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

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
Amy Lowell
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To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Amy Lowell
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Even pain pricks to livelier living.
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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
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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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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.
Amy Lowell
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Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
Amy Lowell
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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.
Amy Lowell
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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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The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
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All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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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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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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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell
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Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.
Amy Lowell
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Great emotion always tends to become rhythmic, and out of that tendency the forms of art have been evolved. Art becomes artificial only when the forms take precedence over the emotion.
Amy Lowell
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All recurring joy is pain refined.
Amy Lowell
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
Amy Lowell