Quote

To understand Vers libre, one must abandon all desire to find in it the even rhythm of metrical feet. One must allow the lines to flow as they will when read aloud by an intelligent reader.

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
Flow
Find
Intelligent
Must
Reader
Metrical
Even
Feet
Libre
Lines
Aloud
Read
Abandon
Rhythm
Desire
Allow
Understand

More quotes by Amy Lowell

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May is much sunshine through small leaves.
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Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
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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?
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Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
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Youth condemns maturity condones
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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.
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Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
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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.
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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.
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Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
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Happiness, to some, elation Is, to others, mere stagnation.
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Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
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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.
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A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.
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Even pain pricks to livelier living.
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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.
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When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
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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.
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Without poetry the soul and heart of man starves and dies.
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My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
Amy Lowell