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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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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Anything
Collection
Best
Collections
Find
Magnificent
Great
Explain
Trying
Bible
Way
Usually
Poetry
Possible
Varied

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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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.
Amy Lowell
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I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.
Amy Lowell
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
Amy Lowell
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Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Amy Lowell
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Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
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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I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
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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When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
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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I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
Amy Lowell
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Happiness, to some, elation Is, to others, mere stagnation.
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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Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.
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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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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Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
Amy Lowell
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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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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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Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
Amy Lowell