“Buttercups" When we were children our papas were stout And colorless as seaweed or the floats At anchor off New Bedford. We were shut In gardens where our brassy sailor coats Made us like black-eyed susans bending out Into the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Naval officers were not mother's sort; very few people were her sort in those days, and that was her trouble - a very authentic,… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
Pity the planet, all joy gone from this sweet volcanic cone; peace to our children when they fall in small war on the heel… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“The English departments were clogged with worthy but outworn and backwardlooking scholars whose tastes in the moderns were most often superficial, random, and vulgar.… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Sleeper in the Valley" The river sings and cuts a hole in the meadow, madly hooking white tatters on the rushes. light escalades the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Reading Myself" Like thousands I took just pride and more than just, struck matches that brought my blood to a boil; I memorized the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“We are poor passing facts. warned by that to give each figure in the photograph his living name.” — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Those blessèd structures, plot and rhyme— why are they no help to me now I want to make something imagined, not recalled?” — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
It's a completely powerful and serious book, as good as anything in prose or poetry written by a 'beat' writer, and one of the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
Life begins to happen. My hoppped up husband drops his home disputes, and hits the streets to cruise for prostitutes — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
