The Matrix

By Amy Lowell 1874–1925 Amy Lowell

Goaded and harassed in the factory

That tears our life up into bits of days

Ticked off upon a clock which never stays,

Shredding our portion of Eternity,

We break away at last, and steal the key

Which hides a world empty of hours; ways

Of space unroll, and Heaven overlays

The leafy, sun-lit earth of Fantasy.

Beyond the ilex shadow glares the sun,

Scorching against the blue flame of the sky.

Brown lily-pads lie heavy and supine

Within a granite basin, under one

The bronze-gold glimmer of a carp; and I

Reach out my hand and pluck a nectarine.

Source: A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass (1912)

Biography

An oft-quoted remark attributed to poet Amy Lowell applies to both her determined personality and her sense of humor: "God made me a business woman," Lowell is reported to have quipped, "and I made myself a poet." During a career that spanned just over a dozen years, she wrote and published over 650 poems, yet scholars cite Lowell's tireless efforts to awaken American readers to contemporary trends in poetry as her more . . .

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