In Answer to a Request

by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my Dear,

Can clocks tick back to yesterday at noon?

Can cracked and fallen leaves recall last June

And leap up on the boughs, now stiff and sere?

For your sake, I would go and seek the year,

Faded beyond the purple ranks of dune,

Blown sands of drifted hours, which the moon

Streaks with a ghostly finger, and her sneer

Pulls at my lengthening shadow. Yes, 'tis that!

My shadow stretches forward, and the ground

Is dark in front because the light's behind.

It is grotesque, with such a funny hat,

In watching it and walking I have found

More than enough to occupy my mind.

I cannot turn, the light would make me blind.