Tendencies in Modern American Poetry

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Macmillan, 1917 - LITERARY COLLECTIONS - 349 pages
Amy Lowell wrote this analytical book in the heat of the Imagist movement.
 

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Contents

I
3
II
79
III
139

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Page 31 - RICHARD CORY Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim. And he was always quietly arrayed, And he was always human when he talked: But still he fluttered pulses when he said, "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
Page 119 - If you had any feelings, you that dug With your own hand— how could you?— his little grave; I saw you from that very window there, Making the gravel leap and leap in air...
Page 113 - And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand Among the harp-like morning-glory strings, Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves, As if she played unheard some tenderness That wrought on him beside her in the night. "Warren," she said, "he has come home to die: You needn't be afraid he'll leave you this time.
Page 111 - I haven't been. Go, look, see for yourself. But, Warren, please remember how it is: He's come to help you ditch the meadow. He has a plan. You mustn't laugh at him. He may not speak of it, and then he may. Ill sit and see if that small sailing cloud Will hit or miss the moon.
Page 114 - I'll sit and see if that small sailing cloud Will hit or miss the moon.' It hit the moon. Then there were three there, making a dim row, The moon, the little silver cloud, and she. Warren returned — too soon, it seemed to her, Slipped to her side, caught up her hand and waited. 'Warren?' she questioned. 'Dead,
Page 113 - Than was the hound that came a stranger to us Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail." "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.
Page 203 - Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler ; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders...
Page 105 - I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan't be gone long.— You come too.
Page 93 - The gaps I mean, No one has seen them made or heard them made, But at spring mending-time we find them there.
Page 117 - I never noticed it from here before. I must be wonted to it- that's the reason. The little graveyard where my people are! So small the window frames the whole of it. Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it? There are three stones of slate and one of marble, Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight On the sidehill. We haven't to mind those. But I understand: it is not the stones, But the child's mound-." "Don't, don't, don't, don't,

About the author (1917)

Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 - May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school from Brookline, Massachusetts, who posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926. Although Amy Lowell did not look like the stereotypical poet---she was of ample build and enjoyed smoking large black cigars in public---she did write verse that was revolutionary in its time. When "Sword Blades" and "Poppy Seed" (1914) were published, she emerged as the leader of the new poetry movement called the imagist school, and so thoroughly was she identified with this new precise and delicate style that Ezra Pound jokingly proposed to retitle it "Amygism." Two of her poems, "Patterns" (1915) and "A Lady" (1914) are frequently anthologized, both demonstrating her vivid depiction of color, agility with sharp images, and precise use of words. Lowell came from a well-known and established Boston family that included James Russell Lowell as one of her predecessors and was later to produce another well-known poet in the person of Robert Lowell. Louis Untermeyer said of Amy Lowell in his introduction to "The Complete Poetical Works" (1955), that "her final place in the history of American literature has not been determined, but the importance of her influence remains unquestioned. Underneath her preoccupation with the need for novelty...she was a dynamic force." Her posthumous volume, "What's O'Clock" (1925), was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1926.

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