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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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Amy Lowell
Age: 51 †
Born: 1874
Born: February 9
Died: 1925
Died: May 12
Poet
Socialite
Writer
Brookline
Massachusetts
Amy Lawrence Lowell
Poetry
Whatever
Arriving
Attend
Come
Poems
Writing
Aside
Never
Poem
Lays
Deny

More quotes by 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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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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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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How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
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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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 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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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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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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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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How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
Amy Lowell
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Everything mortal has moments immortal
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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Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Amy Lowell
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Happiness, to some, is elation to others it is mere stagnation.
Amy Lowell
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If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
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 books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
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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Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented.
Amy Lowell