A little song

A little song

One stanza is all it takes. The poem “A little song” consist of just one stanza. Enough to be a powerful love poem. This poem is written by Amy Lowell (1874 0 1925).

Amy Lowell

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Who was Amy Lowell?

Amy Lawrence Lowell (09-02-1874 – 12-05-1925) was born into a rich family from Boston (US). She is the sister of the astronomer Percival Lowell and the headmaster of Harvard University, Abbott-Lawrence Lowell.


She did not receive an education at a university but read a lot. She travelled to Europe and was inspired by Eleonora Duse, to start writing poetry. At the age of 28, she started writing poetry. This lead to the publication of a collection of her poems in 1910. This was followed by the book entitled A dome of many-coloured glass.


Together with her life partner, Ada Dwyer, she travelled to the United Kingdom in 1912, where she became friends with Ezra Pound. She was a financial supporter of his movement of Imagism.


Lowell was not only a poetess. She was also an advocate for the equal rights of woman and gay people.


During her life, she was struggling with several health issues. The fact that she smoked cigars, did her no good. She died on May 12, 1925, of coronary thrombosis at the age of only 51 years old. After her death, she was posthumously honoured with the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (1926) for the book What’s O’clock. 

Love

About “A little song”

Ah, true love is a pain in the heart, when lovers are separated. This is the essence of the poem called A little song. Lowell managed to capture the heartbreak when two lovers are separated. She did this with just one – long – stanza.


The pain speaks from this poem and the wish that her lover would return to the poetess. This is something that many of us can relate to. Therefore, it’s poetry that is timeless or maybe even immortal!

A little song

When you, my Dear, are away, away,
How wearily goes the creeping day.
A year drags after morning, and night
Starts another year of candle light.
O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon!
Grant me, I beg of you, this boon.
Whirl round the earth as never sun
Has his diurnal journey run.
And, Moon, slip past the ladders of air
In a single flash, while your streaming hair
Catches the stars and pulls them down
To shine on some slumbering Chinese town.
O Kindly Sun! Understanding Moon!
Bring evening to crowd the footsteps of noon.
But when that long awaited day
Hangs ripe in the heavens, your voyaging stay.
Be morning, O Sun! with the lark in song,
Be afternoon for ages long.
And, Moon, let you and your lesser lights
Watch over a century of nights.

— Amy Lowell

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