Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass
    A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass
    A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass
    Ebook132 pages57 minutes

    A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

    By Amy Lowell

    ()

    Switch to audiobook
    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJan 1, 1981
    Author

    Amy Lowell

    Amy Lowell (1874-1925) was an American poet. Born into an elite family of businessmen, politicians, and intellectuals, Lowell was a member of the so-called Boston Brahmin class. She excelled in school from a young age and developed a habit for reading and book collecting. Denied the opportunity to attend college by her family, Lowell traveled extensively in her twenties and turned to poetry in 1902. While in England with her lover Ada Dwyer Russell, she met American poet Ezra Pound, whose influence as an imagist and fierce critic of Lowell’s work would prove essential to her poetry. In 1912, only two years after publishing her first poem in The Atlantic Monthly, Lowell produced A Dome of Many-Coloured Glasses, her debut volume of poems. In addition to such collections of her own poems as Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (1914) and Men, Women, and Ghosts (1916), Lowell published translations of 8th century Chinese poet Li Tai-po and, at the time of her death, had been working on a biography of English Romantic John Keats.

    Read more from Amy Lowell

    Related to A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

    Related ebooks

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      from BLACK PASTORAL

      Nov 1, 2023

      somewheres, some lifetimes ago I have run so far, so long.There is nowhere I haven’t beenBut here, in this field, a bodyLength from the ragged brinkThat gives way to forest.I collapsed here, the thin, hard slipOf me whittled at both ends.I want badly

      4 min read

    • Article

      Must-Read Poetry: November 2020

      Nov 5, 2020

      Stop obsessively refreshing the New York Times's elections page, and check out these new books of poetry by Alice Quinn, Margaret Atwood, Yi Lei, Karina Borowicz, Valzhyna Mort, and Paul Celan. The post Must-Read Poetry: November 2020 appeared first

      6 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Nov 1, 2018

      Moon river, swollen river, river of starholeand bright, harness river, lichen river,river we velvet with our filth.River of butter and river of witches, rivercracked open careful like egg, or burstapart, unleashing its violet load.River mouths, river

      2 min read

    • Article

      The Last Stop

      Oct 3, 2021

      The Last Stop
      1 min read

    • Article

      Toward A Unified Theory

      Jan 1, 2022

      Condemned to live inside the weatherof our moods What are you doing? Filling this bucket with waterand dumping it into the water They can’t excavate the amphitheater further because it extends backbeneath the houses We close their eyes not for thembu

      2 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      Two Poems
      2 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      followed—in front, as horses—into daisy& silver dancing, knowing the jaw who unkeysin the danced earth to drink me down to haints,& will go again. was willed. distrusted happiness, addicted to it.a god needs of a god. here, i don’t want to reachfor g

      3 min read

    • Article

      Where To Start With Louise Glück, Winner Of The 2020 Nobel Prize In Literature

      Oct 14, 2020

      The Swedish Academy has awarded this year's Nobel Prize in literature to Louise Gluck, a former U.S. poet laureate. The 16th woman to win the prestigious prize and the first American woman since Toni Morrison in 1993, Gluck is the author of 12 poetry

      3 min read

    • Article

      On Louise Glück

      Dec 1, 2021

      I WAS LYING in bed late at night, woeful, confused by another death, this one the death of a close friend; the losses had been mounting steadily, a bewildering number of losses, each one specific, difficult to accept, hard to overcome, and I must hav

      12 min read

    • Article

      Bless Your Soup

      Jan 1, 2022

      I am doing the work of healing.As in:I cry to early-2000s Paula DeAnda.I wash the towels from our apartment.I find your resume onlineand critique it harshly for a ghost audience. I come up with new names for emotions, likeDISLODGED FITTED SHEET orDAM

      1 min read

    • Article

      Three Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      I’ve seen enough films where a character nickshimself shaving or maybe has a bread knife slip and the thinrun of blood is supposed to stand for some violence,for something he did and is desperateto cover up, but the truth will out—I’ve seen enough th

      2 min read

    • Article

      The Rails

      Dec 1, 2021

      The Rails
      1 min read

    • Article

      Three Poems

      Mar 1, 2022

      i look like someonehealing from an accidentbecause i am someonehealing from an accidentthe book of actsscales falling from saul’s eyesremembering my capacityfor stillnesshow long can i sitwithout looking awaythe fear of god escapingi desperately need

      3 min read

    • Article

      Diaspora Sonnets

      Sep 1, 2022

      The old men drink their spritzers and gossipunder awnings. Red hued and blustery, like two roosters on the side of a road.Skyward they crane their necks and laugh, sometimes they wonder about kings and future kingsand how the muscles peer from their

      2 min read

    • Article

      Harold Bloom, 1930–2019

      Oct 15, 2019

      Harold Bloom, 1930–2019
      1 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      Maybe every choice is in some way false,like whether to wonder or worry,or feel alive or alone in Clevelandor Memphis or any standard double queentrying to unwrap a tiny hotel soap.There’s always another one waitingin the dish like a stale communion

      2 min read

    • Article

      How The Sonnet Turns

      May 1, 2020

      This essay is adapted from a lecture delivered at the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, on January 10, 2010, at the winter residency. My thanks to The American Poetry Review for their graceful and gracious assistance in the adaptation

      30 min read

    Reviews for A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass - Amy Lowell

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass, by Amy Lowell

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

      Title: A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass

      Author: Amy Lowell

      Release Date: July 3, 2008 [EBook #261]

      Last Updated: January 9, 2013

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOME OF MANY-COLOURED GLASS ***

      Produced by A. Light, Linda Bowser, and David Widger

      A DOME OF MANY-COLOURED GLASS

      by Amy Lowell

      [American (Massachusetts) poet and critic — 1874-1925.]

      [This etext has been transcribed from the 3rd printing (1916),

      of the 1912 (original) edition.]

      "Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,

      Stains the white radiance of Eternity."

      Shelley, Adonais.

           "Le silence est si grand que mon coeur en frissonne,

           Seul, le bruit de mes pas sur le pave resonne."

                                    Albert Samain.

      CONTENTS

      LYRICAL POEMS

      Before the Altar

      Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems

      Apples of Hesperides

      Azure and Gold

      Petals

      Venetian Glass

      Fatigue

      A Japanese Wood-Carving

      A Little Song

      Behind a Wall

      A Winter Ride

      A Coloured Print by Shokei

      Song

      The Fool Errant

      The Green Bowl

      Hora Stellatrix

      Fragment

      Loon Point

      Summer

      To-morrow to Fresh Woods and Pastures New

      The Way

      Diya {original title is Greek, Delta-iota-psi-alpha}

      Roads

      Teatro Bambino. Dublin, N. H.

      The Road to Avignon

      New York at Night

      A Fairy Tale

      Crowned

      To Elizabeth Ward Perkins

      The Promise of the Morning Star

      J—K. Huysmans

      March Evening

      SONNETS

      Leisure

      On Carpaccio's Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula

      The Matrix

      Monadnock in Early Spring

      The Little Garden

      To an Early Daffodil

      Listening

      The Lamp of Life

      Hero-Worship

      In Darkness

      Before Dawn

      The Poet

      At Night

      The Fruit Garden Path

      Mirage

      To a Friend

      A Fixed Idea

      Dreams

      Frankincense and Myrrh

      From One Who Stays

      Crepuscule du Matin

      Aftermath

      The End

      The Starling

      Market Day

      Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina

      Francis II, King of Naples

      To John Keats

      THE BOSTON ATHENAEUM

      VERSES FOR CHILDREN

      Sea Shell

      Fringed Gentians

      The Painted Ceiling

      The Crescent Moon

      Climbing

      The Trout

      Wind

      The Pleiades

      LYRICAL POEMS

      Before the Altar

                Before the Altar, bowed, he stands

                With empty hands;

                Upon it perfumed offerings burn

                Wreathing with smoke the sacrificial urn.

                Not one of all these has he given,

                No flame of his has leapt to Heaven

                Firesouled, vermilion-hearted,

                Forked, and darted,

                Consuming what a few spare pence

                Have cheaply bought, to fling from hence

                In idly-asked petition.

                His sole condition

                Love and poverty.

                And while the moon

                Swings slow across the sky,

                Athwart a waving pine tree,

                And soon

                Tips all the needles there

                With silver sparkles, bitterly

                He gazes, while his soul

                Grows hard with thinking of the poorness of his dole.

                "Shining and distant Goddess, hear my prayer

                Where you swim in the high air!

                With charity look down on me,

                Under this tree,

                Tending the gifts I have not brought,

                The rare and goodly things

                I have not sought.

                Instead, take from me all my life!

                "Upon the wings

                Of shimmering moonbeams

                I pack my poet's dreams

                For you.

                My wearying strife,

                My courage, my loss,

                Into the night I toss

                For you.

                Golden Divinity,

                Deign to look down on me

                Who so unworthily

                Offers to you:

                All life has known,

                Seeds withered unsown,

                Hopes turning quick to fears,

                Laughter which dies in tears.

                The shredded remnant of a man

                Is all the span

                And compass of my offering to you.

                "Empty and silent, I

                Kneel before your pure, calm majesty.

                On this stone, in this urn

                I pour my heart and watch it burn,

                Myself the sacrifice; but be

                Still unmoved:  Divinity."

                From the altar, bathed in moonlight,

                The smoke rose straight in the quiet night.

      Suggested by the Cover of a Volume of Keats's Poems

                Wild little bird, who chose thee for a sign

                To put upon the cover of this book?

                Who heard thee singing in the distance dim,

                The vague, far greenness of the enshrouding wood,

                When the damp freshness of the morning earth

                Was full of pungent sweetness and thy song?

                Who followed over moss and twisted roots,

                And pushed through the wet leaves of trailing vines

                Where slanting sunbeams gleamed uncertainly,

                While ever clearer came the dropping notes,

                Until, at last, two widening trunks disclosed

                Thee singing on a spray of branching beech,

                Hidden, then seen; and always that same song

                Of joyful sweetness, rapture incarnate,

                Filled the hushed, rustling stillness of the wood?

                We do not know what bird thou art.  Perhaps

                That fairy bird, fabled in island tale,

                Who never sings but once, and then his song

                Is of such fearful beauty that he dies

                From sheer exuberance of melody.

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1