In Amy Lowell’s “Wheat-in-the-Ear,” a speaker watches a naked figure standing among cedars and spruces, struck by how brilliantly the body catches light. At first the speaker guesses at comparisons—a gem, a spear, a jade cup—but the figure seems less like an object than a living fire, something sacred and ceremonial. The title reinforces that golden, ripe glow, as if the figure belongs to the landscape yet also stands apart from it. The speaker’s response is intensely physical: eyes burn, hands reach out like flames. Yet the figure remains unreachable, compared to a bright pointed planet in the evening sky. The mood is at once awed, sensual, and lonely; admiration is crossed with longing and a sense of distance. The natural setting and jewel-like imagery make the scene feel vivid but almost ritualistic, as if the speaker is witnessing something beautiful that cannot be touched or possessed.
Wheat-in-the-Ear — Summary
You stand between the cedars and the green spruces. Brilliantly naked. And I think : What are you, A gem under sunlight ? A poised spear ? A jade cup ?
You flash in front of the cedars and the tall spruces. And I see that you are fire — Sacrificial fire on a jade altar. Spear-tongue of white, ceremonial fire. My eyes burn. My hands are flames seeking you. But you are as remote from me as a bright pointed planet Set in the distance of an evening sky.