Robert Lowell Poems
|1.||"To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage&Quot;||1/20/2003|
|2.||After The Surprising Conversions||4/8/2010|
|3.||Children Of Light||1/3/2003|
|6.||Falling Asleep Over The Aeneid||4/8/2010|
|7.||For The Union Dead||1/3/2003|
|10.||Home After Three Months Away||1/3/2003|
|12.||July In Washington||3/26/2015|
|13.||Man And Wife||1/3/2003|
|14.||Memories Of West Street And Lepke||1/3/2003|
|15.||Mr. Edwards And The Spider||4/8/2010|
|16.||My Last Afternoon With Uncle Devereux Winslow||4/8/2010|
|17.||Sailing Home From Rapallo||4/8/2010|
|19.||The Drunken Fisherman||1/3/2003|
|20.||The Old Flame||1/3/2003|
|21.||The Quaker Graveyard In Nantucket||1/3/2003|
|22.||To Speak Of Woe That Is In Marriage||1/3/2003|
|23.||Waking In The Blue||1/3/2003|
The Old Flame
My old flame, my wife!
Remember our lists of birds?
One morning last summer, I drove
by our house in Maine. It was still
on top of its hill -
Now a red ear of Indian maize
was splashed on the door.
Old Glory with thirteen stripes
hung on a pole. The clapboard
was old-red schoolhouse red.
Inside, a new landlord,
a new wife, a new broom!
Atlantic seaboard antique shop
pewter and plunder
shone in each room.
A new frontier!
No running next door
now to phone the sheriff
for his taxi to Bath
and the State Liquor Store!
Harpo Marx, your hands white-feathered the harp—
the only words you ever spoke were sound.
The movie's not always the sick man of the arts,
yours touched the stars; Harpo, your motion picture
is still life unchanging, not nature dead.
I saw you first two years before you died,
a black-and-white fall, near Fifth in Central Park;
old blond hair too blonder, old eyes too young.
Movie trucks and five police trucks wheel to wheel