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Poem by Amy Lowell


Mirage


How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
No loneliness is this, nor misery,
But great content that these should be the ways
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays,
Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality
Is not with dreams so pregnant.  For delays
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end;
A thousand misconceptions may prevent
Our souls from coming near enough to blend;
Let me but think we have the same intent,
That each one needs to call the other, Фfriend!Ф
It may be vain illusion.  IТm content.



Amy Lowell


Amy Lowell's other poems:
  1. The Bungler
  2. The Painter on Silk
  3. The Fool Errant
  4. The Boston Athenaeum
  5. Frankincense and Myrrh


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Christina Rossetti Mirage ("The hope I dreamed of was a dream")
  • Ella Wilcox Mirage ("When the beautiful mountain ash is turning--")

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