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About this Poem 

From A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1912).

The Green Bowl

          This little bowl is like a mossy pool
          In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow
          Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees;
          A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds,
          Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song
          And murmur of the never resting sea.
          'T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup,
          But coming Spring guided your eager hand
          And round the edge you fashioned young green leaves,
          A proper chalice made to hold the shy
          And little flowers of the woods.  And here
          They will forget their sad uprooting, lost
          In pleasure that this circle of bright leaves
          Should be their setting; once more they will dream
          They hear winds wandering through lofty trees
          And see the sun smiling between the leaves.

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell

Born in 1874, Amy Lowell was deeply interested in and influenced by the Imagist movement and she received the Pulitzer Prize for her collection What's O'Clock.

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          Are we or Fate the victors? Time which shows
           All inner meanings will
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Over the shop where silk is sold
Still the dragon kites are flying.
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          Stupefy my heart to every day's monotony,
           Seal up my eyes, I would not look so far,
          Chasten my steps to peaceful regularity,
           Bow down my head lest I behold a star.

          Fill my days with work, a thousand calm necessities
           Leaving no moment to consecrate