Amy Lowell

  • Tell me,
    Was Venus more beautiful
    Than you are,
    When she topped
    The crinkled waves,
    Drifting shoreward
    On her plaited shell?
    Was Botticelli’s vision
    Fairer than mine;
    And were the painted rosebuds
    He tossed his lady
    Of better worth

  • When I go away from you
    The world beats dead
    Like a slackened drum.
    I call out for you against the jutted stars
    And shout into the ridges of the wind.
    Streets coming fast,
    One after the other,
    Wedge you away from me,
    And the lamps of the city prick my eyes...

  • All day long I have been working,
    Now I am tired.
    I call:“Where are you?”
    But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind.
    The house is very quiet,
    The sun shines in on your books,
    On your scissors and thimble just put down,
    But you are not there.