Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/25

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

Amy Lowell


XVII


Foolish so to grieve,
Autumn has its colored leaves—
But before they turn?

XVIII


Afterwards I think:
Poppies bloom when it thunders.
Is this not enough?

XIX


Love is a game—yes?
I think it is a drowning:
Black willows and stars.

XX


When the aster fades
The creeper flaunts in crimson.
Always another!

XXI


Turning from the page,
Blind with a night of labor,
I hear morning crows.

XXII


A cloud of lilies,
Or else you walk before me.
Who could see clearly?