This is the third poem by Amy Lowell I post here. Needless to say, I’m a fan. Of hers and of Imagism. I was looking for a poem that fit the mood of this summer, which can be summarised in one word: rain. But this poem makes the rain a little less dreary. It adds a romantic touch, a red-gold and crocus-coloured warmth. Now, I don’t know about you, but that’s the kind of rain I can live with. A little tip: if you like this poem, scroll back a bit and read Spring Rain by Sara Teasdale.
All night our room was outer-walled with rain.
Drops fell and flattened on the tin roof,
And rang like little disks of metal.
Ping!—Ping!—and there was not a pin-point of silence between
them.
The rain rattled and clashed,
And the slats of the shutters danced and glittered.
But to me the darkness was red-gold and crocus-colored
With your brightness,
And the words you whispered to me
Sprang up and flamed—orange torches against the rain.
Torches against the wall of cool, silver rain!
Amy Lowell
Alix in Wonderland 