Quote

Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.

Amy Lowell

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Wings
Hour
Flower
Hours
Happy
Upon
Winking
Stills
Painted
Still
Butterfly

More quotes by Amy Lowell

Image
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
Image
I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
Amy Lowell
Image
All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
Amy Lowell
Image
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns maturity condones.
Amy Lowell
Image
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
Amy Lowell
Image
To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
Amy Lowell
Image
Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
The stigma of oddness is the price a myopic world always exacts of genius.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
Amy Lowell
Image
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
Amy Lowell