Poem by Amy Lowell

Fringed Gentians

Near where I live there is a lake
As blue as blue can be, winds make
It dance as they go blowing by.
I think it curtseys to the sky.
It’s just a lake of lovely flowers
And my Mamma says they are ours;
But they are not like those we grow
To be our very own, you know.
We have a splendid garden, there
Are lots of flowers everywhere;
Roses, and pinks, and four o’clocks
And hollyhocks, and evening stocks.
Mamma lets us pick them, but never
Must we pick any gentians -- ever!
For if we carried them away
They’d die of homesickness that day.

1. Red Slippers
2. Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H.
3. Miscast I
4. Crepuscule du Matin
5. Storm-Racked

Print

1134 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version