Amy Lowell Quotes - Page 3

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.

Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.

You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.

Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.

Even pain pricks to livelier living.

Happiness, to some, elation; Is, to others, mere stagnation.

On the neck of the young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise. Youth condemns; maturity condones.

Love is a game-yes? I think it is a drowning.

Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?

Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.

I know that a creed is the shell of a lie.

Underneath my stiffened gown Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin

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?

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.

May is much sunshine through small leaves.

How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!

A man must be sacrificed now and again to provide for the next generation of men.

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.

In my stiff, brocaded gown. With my powdered hair and jeweled fan, I too am a rare Pattern.