Poems by Robert Lowell

Sorted by title, showing title and first line

Our fathers wrung their bread from stocks and stones
My Dolphin, you only guide me by surprise,
Those bless├Ęd structures, plot and rhyme
Relinquunt Ommia Servare Rem Publicam.
History has to live with what was here,
Gone now the baby's nurse,
What was is... since 1930;
(I.R.A. Bombing)
Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother's bed;
Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming
For Elizabeth Bishop
Wallowing in this bloody sty,
My old flame, my wife!
(For Warren Winslow, Dead At Sea)
"It is the future generation that presses into being by means of
The night attendant, a B.U. sophomore,