Lady, A
by: Amy Lowell (1874 - 1925)
You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord;
Or like the sun-flooded silks
Of an eighteenth-century boudoir.
In your eyes
Smoulder the fallen roses of out-lived minutes,
And the perfume of your soul
Is vague and suffusing,
With the pungence of sealed spice-jars.
Your half-tones delight me,
And I grow mad with gazing
At your blent colours.
My vigour is a new-minted penny,
Which I cast at your feet.
Gather it up from the dust,
That its sparkle may amuse you.
|
Bungler, The
To A Friend
Taxi, The
Giver Of Stars, The
Azure And Gold
Winter Ride, A
Little Song, A
Japanese Wood-Carving, A
Behind A Wall
|
