Amy Lowell

From “Chalks: Black, Red, White”

LINES of lamp-light

Splinter the black water,

And all through

The dim park

Are lamps

Hanging among the trees.

But they are only like fire-flies

Pricking the darkness,

And I lean my body against it

And spread out my fingers

To let it drift through them.

I am a swimmer

In the damp night,

Or a bird

Floating over the sucking grasses.

I am a lover

Tracking the silver foot-prints

Of the moon.

I am a young man,

In Central Park,

With Spring

Bursting over me.

The trees push out their young leaves,

Although this is not the country;

And I whisper beautiful, hot words,

Although I am alone,

And a few more steps

Will bring me

The glare and suffocation

Of bright streets.