This page has been validated.
Amy Lowell
XVII
Foolish so to grieve,
Autumn has its colored leaves—
But before they turn?
XVIII
Afterwards I think:
Poppies bloom when it thunders.
Is this not enough?
XIX
Love is a game—yes?
I think it is a drowning:
Black willows and stars.
XX
When the aster fades
The creeper flaunts in crimson.
Always another!
XXI
Turning from the page,
Blind with a night of labor,
I hear morning crows.
XXII
A cloud of lilies,
Or else you walk before me.
Who could see clearly?
11
