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Amy Lowell: The Cross-Roads

The Cross-RoadsA bullet through his heart at dawn. On the table a letter signed with a woman's name. A wind that goes howling round the house, and weeping as in shame. Cold November dawn…

Amy Lowell: The Dinner-Party

The Dinner-PartyFish"So . . ." they said, With their wine-glasses delicately poised, Mocking at the thing they cannot understand. "So . . ." they said again, Amused and insolent. The silver…

Amy Lowell: The Fruit Shop

The Fruit ShopCross-ribboned shoes; a muslin gown, High-waisted, girdled with bright blue; A straw poke bonnet which hid the frown She pluckered her little brows into As she picked her dainty…

Amy Lowell: The Painter on Silk

The Painter on SilkThere was a man Who made his living By painting roses Upon silk.He sat in an upper chamber And painted, And the noises of the street Meant nothing to him.When he heard…

Amy Lowell: The Paper Windmill

The Paper WindmillThe little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square glistened like mica. In the trees, a…

Amy Lowell: Towns in Colour

Towns in ColourRed SlippersThompson's Lunch Room — Grand Central StationAn Opera HouseAfternoon Rain in State StreetAn Aquarium

Amy Lowell: Azure and Gold

Azure and GoldApril had covered the hills With flickering yellows and reds, The sparkle and coolness of snow Was blown from the mountain beds.Across a deep-sunken stream The pink of…

Amy Lowell: Before Dawn

Before DawnLife! Austere arbiter of each man's fate, By whom he learns that Nature's steadfast laws Are as decrees immutable; O pause Your even forward march! Not yet too late Teach me…

Amy Lowell: Before the Altar

Before the AltarBefore the Altar, bowed, he stands With empty hands; Upon it perfumed offerings burn Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn. Not one of all these has he given, No flame of…