Poem by Amy Lowell

A Gift

See!  I give myself to you, Beloved!
My words are little jars
For you to take and put upon a shelf.
Their shapes are quaint and beautiful,
And they have many pleasant colours and lustres
To recommend them.
Also the scent from them fills the room
With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses.
When I shall have given you the last one,
You will have the whole of me,
But I shall be dead.

1. Lead Soldiers
2. Epitaph of a Young Poet Who Died Before Having Achieved Success
3. On Carpaccio’s Picture: The Dream of St. Ursula
4. The Cyclists
5. A Blockhead

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