Quote

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

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
Deny
Poetry
Whatever
Arriving
Come
Attend
Writing
Poems
Never
Aside
Poem
Lays

More quotes by Amy Lowell

Image
When I go away from you The world beats dead Like a slackened drum.
Amy Lowell
Image
All books are either dreams or swords, you can cut, or you can drug, with words.
Amy Lowell
Image
Not a softness anywhere about me, Only whalebone and brocade.
Amy Lowell
Image
If what we worship fail us, still the fire burns on, and it is much to have believed.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
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
I shall go Up and down In my gown. Gorgeously arrayed, Boned and stayed.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
Amy Lowell
Image
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.
Amy Lowell
Image
Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.
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
Everything mortal has moments immortal
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
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
Amy Lowell
Image
Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.
Amy Lowell
Image
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
Image
Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
Amy Lowell