A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

“Everything mortal has moments immortal””

— Amy Lowell

“Fragment"What is poetry? Is it a mosaicOf coloured stones which curiously are wroughtInto a pattern? Rather glass that's taughtBy patient labor any hue to takeAnd glowing with a sumptuous splendor, makeBeauty a thing of awe; where sunbeams caught,Transmuted fall in sheafs of rainbows fraughtWith storied meaning for religion's sake.””

— Amy Lowell

“It's a little bit sad, when you seem very nearTo adventures and things of that sort, Which nearly begin, and then don't; and you knowIt is only because you are short.””

— Amy Lowell

“His youth had scarcely melted into manhood””

— Amy Lowell

“To A Friend" I ask but one thing of you, only one, That always you will be my dream of you; That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on, Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night. Alas, how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew Existed, but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half-forgotten sound. The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground, Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a belief in beauty through all wrongs. O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!””

— Amy Lowell