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Amy Lowell, longing, in English Clear filters

DreamyAmy Lowell

Little Ivory Figures Pulled with String

Is it the tinkling of mandolins which disturbs you ? Or the dropping of bitter-orange petals among the coffee-cups ? Or the slow creeping of the moonlight between the olive-trees ? Drop ! drop ! the rain Upon the thin plates of my heart. String your blood to chord with this music, Stir your heels upon the cobbles to the rhythm of a dance-tune. They have slim thighs and arms of silver ; The moon washes away their garments ; They make a pattern of fleeing feet in the branch shadows. And the green grapes knotted about them Burst as they press against one another. The rain knocks upon the plates of my heart. They are crumpled with its beating. Would you drink only from your brains, Old Man ?
DreamyAmy Lowell

Trees

The branches of the trees lie in layers Above and behind each other. And the sun strikes on the outstanding leaves And turns them white. And they dance like a splatter of pebbles Against a green wall. The trees make a solid path leading up in the air. It looks as though I could walk upon it If I only had courage to step out of the window.

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