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Live Stream: September, 1918 by Amy Lowell

Written by Rachael Norris, 15th September 2020

The theme for our #DailyReadings in September is beginnings and endings. PIPES Reader Leader, Sally, reads the poem September, 1918 by Amy Lowell.

September 1918 by Amy Lowell

September, 1918BY AMY LOWELL (1874-1925)This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.Under a tree in the park,Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,Were carefully gathering red berriesTo put in a pasteboard box.Some day there will be no war,Then I shall take out this afternoonAnd turn it in my fingers,And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.To-day I can only gather itAnd put it into my lunch-box,For I have time for nothingBut the endeavour to balance myselfUpon a broken world.

Posted by The Reader on Tuesday, 15 September 2020

September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.

Amy Lowell

 

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