by Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

From my window I can see the moonlight stroking the smooth surface of the
The trees are silent, there is no wind.
Admirable pre-Raphaelite landscape,
Light touched with ebony and silver.
I alone am out of keeping:

An angry red gash

Proclaiming restlessness
Of an incongruous century.

Last updated February 01, 2023