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Poem by Amy Lowell


Dreams


I do not care to talk to you although
Your speech evokes a thousand sympathies,
And all my beingТs silent harmonies
Wake trembling into music.  When you go
It is as if some sudden, dreadful blow
Had severed all the strings with savage ease.
No, do not talk; but let us rather seize
This intimate gift of silence which we know.
Others may guess your thoughts from what you say,
As storms are guessed from clouds where darkness broods.
To me the very essence of the day
Reveals its inner purpose and its moods;
As poplars feel the rain and then straightway
Reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods.



Amy Lowell


Amy Lowell's other poems:
  1. The Book of Hours of Sister Clotilde
  2. The Bungler
  3. The Boston Athenaeum
  4. The Cross-Roads
  5. The Green Bowl


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • John Dryden Dreams ("Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes")
  • Robert Herrick Dreams ("Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd")
  • Anne Brontë Dreams ("While on my lonely couch I lie")
  • John Newman Dreams ("OH! miserable power")
  • Caroline Norton Dreams ("SURELY I heard a voice-surely my name")
  • Robert Service Dreams ("I had a dream, a dream of dread")
  • Edgar Poe Dreams ("Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!")
  • Henry Timrod Dreams ("Who first said "false as dreams?" Not one who saw")

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