Amy Lowell

9 February 1874 – 12 May 1925 / Boston, Massachusetts

Apology

Be not angry with me that I bear
   Your colours everywhere,
   All through each crowded street,
   And meet
   The wonder-light in every eye,
   As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,
   Blinded by rainbow haze,
   The stuff of happiness,
   No less,
   Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds
   Of peacock golds.

Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way
   Flushes beneath its gray.
   My steps fall ringed with light,
   So bright,
   It seems a myriad suns are strown
   About the town.

Around me is the sound of steepled bells,
   And rich perfumed smells
   Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,
   And shroud
   Me from close contact with the world.
   I dwell impearled.

You blazon me with jewelled insignia.
   A flaming nebula
   Rims in my life. And yet
   You set
   The word upon me, unconfessed
   To go unguessed.
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