Opal

Amy Lowell

You are ice and fire,
The touch of you burns my hands like snow.
You are cold and flame.
You are the crimson of amaryllis,
The silver of moon-touched magnolias.
When I am with you,
My heart is a frozen pond
Gleaming with agitated torches.

Next 10 Poems

• Amy Lowell : Patience
• Amy Lowell : Patterns
• Amy Lowell : Petals
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 01
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 02
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 03
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 04
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 05
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 06
• Amy Lowell : Pickthorn Manor: 07

Previous 10 Poems

• Amy Lowell : On Carpaccio's Picture: The Dream Of St. Ursula
• Amy Lowell : Off The Turnpike
• Amy Lowell : Obligation
• Amy Lowell : Number 3 On The Docket
• Amy Lowell : Nightmare: A Tale For An Autumn Evening
• Amy Lowell : New York At Night
• Amy Lowell : Music
• Amy Lowell : Monadnock In Early Spring
• Amy Lowell : Miscast Ii
• Amy Lowell : Miscast I