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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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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Nodding
Bending
Breeze
Sun
Flower
Running
Breezes

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented.
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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Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
Amy Lowell
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Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour of lilac, Your great puffs of flowers Are everywhere in this my New England ... Lilacs in dooryards Holding quiet conversation with an early moon Lilacs watching a deserted house ... Lilacs, wind-beaten, staggering under a lopsided shock of bloom, You are everywhere.
Amy Lowell
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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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Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
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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Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.
Amy Lowell
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Fifteen millions of soldiers with popguns and horses All bent upon killing, because their of courses Are not quite the same.
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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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
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You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.
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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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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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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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.
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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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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Now you are come! You tremble like a star Poised where, behind earth's rim, the sun has set. Your voice has sung across my heart, but numb And mute, I have no tones to answer.
Amy Lowell
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Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell