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Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
Amy Lowell -
Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.
Amy Lowell
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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 -
When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Amy Lowell -
Brighter than fireflies upon the Uji River are your words in the dark, Beloved.
Amy Lowell -
Life is a streamOn which we strewPetal by petal the flower of our heart.
Amy Lowell -
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 -
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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All recurring joy is pain refined.
Amy Lowell -
Everything mortal has moments immortal.
Amy Lowell -
Poetry, far more than fiction, reveals the soul of humanity.
Amy Lowell -
Art is like politics. Any theory carried too far ends in sterility, and freshness is only gained by following some other line.
Amy Lowell -
I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.
Amy Lowell -
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it.
Amy Lowell
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Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.
Amy Lowell -
How hard, how desperately hard, is the way of the experimenter in art!
Amy Lowell -
Hate is ravening vulture beaks descending on a place of skulls.
Amy Lowell -
Poetry is the most concentrated form of literature; it is the most emotionalized and powerful way in which thought can be presented ...
Amy Lowell -
Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.
Amy Lowell -
Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose.
Amy Lowell