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Poem by Amy Lowell


Summer


Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house
Where pent up human forces labour and strive,
Where beauty dwells not, driven forth by man;
But where in winter they must live until
Summer gives back the spaces of the hills.
To me it is not so.  I love the earth
And all the gifts of her so lavish hand:
Sunshine and flowers, rivers and rushing winds,
Thick branches swaying in a winter storm,
And moonlight playing in a boats wide wake;
But more than these, and much, ah, how much more,
I love the very human heart of man.
Above me spreads the hot, blue mid-day sky,
Far down the hillside lies the sleeping lake
Lazily reflecting back the sun,
And scarcely ruffled by the little breeze
Which wanders idly through the nodding ferns.
The blue crest of the distant mountain, tops
The green crest of the hill on which I sit;
And it is summer, glorious, deep-toned summer,
The very crown of natures changing year
When all her surging life is at its full.
To me alone it is a time of pause,
A void and silent space between two worlds,
When inspiration lags, and feeling sleeps,
Gathering strength for efforts yet to come.
For life alone is creator of life,
And closest contact with the human world
Is like a lantern shining in the night
To light me to a knowledge of myself.
I love the vivid life of winter months
In constant intercourse with human minds,
When every new experience is gain
And on all sides we feel the great worlds heart;
The pulse and throb of life which makes us men!



Amy Lowell


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


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Alexander Pope Summer ("See what delights in sylvan scenes appear!")
  • Samuel Johnson Summer ("O Phoebus! down the western sky")
  • John Clare Summer ("Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come")
  • William Morris Summer ("Summer looked for long am I")
  • James Thomson Summer ("Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead")
  • Robert Anderson Summer ("Now the gay smiles of Summer enliven each scene")
  • Madison Cawein Summer ("Now Lucifer ignites her taper bright")
  • John Lapraik Summer ("THOU joyful, pleasant Season, hail!")

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