Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired.
I call: "Where are you?"
But there is only the
oak tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The
sun shines in on your books,
On your
scissors and
thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely:
Where are you?
I go about searching.
Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue
larkspur,
With a basket of
roses on your arm.
You are cool, like
silver,
And you smile.
I think the
Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.
You tell me that the
peonies need spraying,
That the
columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the
pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur.
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud, sweet ‘
Te Deums’ of the
Canterbury bells.
I love the pun in this poem, of the bellflowers (the Caterbury bells, or Campanula medium) and the allusion to church bells with Canterbury Cathedral and the Latin hymn "Te Deum".