| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 199. A Lady |
| | | By Amy Lowell |
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| YOU are beautiful and faded, | |
| Like an old opera tune | |
| Played upon a harpsichord; | |
| Or like the sun-flooded silks | |
| Of an eighteenth century boudoir. | 5 |
| In your eyes | |
| Smoulder the fallen roses of outlived minutes, | |
| And the perfume of your soul | |
| Is vague and suffusing, | |
| With the pungence of sealed spice jars. | 10 |
| Your half-tones delight me, | |
| And I grow mad with gazing | |
| At your blent colors. | |
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| My vigor is a new-minted penny, | |
| Which I cast at your feet. | 15 |
| Gather it up from the dust, | |
| That its sparkle may amuse you. | |
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