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Poem by Amy Lowell


The End


Throughout the echoing chambers of my brain
I hear your words in mournful cadence toll
Like some slow passing-bell which warns the soul
Of sundering darkness.  Unrelenting, fain
To batter down resistance, fall again
Stroke after stroke, insistent diastole,
The bitter blows of truth, until the whole
Is hammered into fact made strangely plain.
Where shall I look for comfort?  Not to you.
Our worlds are drawn apart, our spiritТs suns
Divided, and the light of mine burnt dim.
Now in the haunted twilight I must do
Your will.  I grasp the cup which over-runs,
And with my trembling lips I touch the rim.



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:

  • Wilfred Owen The End ("After the blast of lightning from the east")
  • David Lawrence The End ("If I could have put you in my heart")

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