
The speaker rejects a beloved’s cramped, awkward letter, finding its words incapable of conveying the moonlit beauty around her: oak leaves, an uncurtained window, a bare floor spattered with moonlight, and blossoming hawthorns. She is exhausted by longing and by trying to compress her heart into ink and send it by post. Alone beneath the blazing moon, she suffers intensely from the beloved’s absence.
By Amy Lowell · First published 1920 · Genre: Poetry, Literary Fiction, Historical · 151 words
Little cramped words scrawling all over the paper / Like draggled fly's legs, / What can you tell of the flaring moon / Through the oak leaves? / Or of my uncurtained window and the bare floor / Spattered with moonlight? / Your silly quirks and twists have nothing in them / Of blossoming hawthorns, / And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth, virgin of loveliness / Beneath my hand.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against / The want of you; / Of squeezing it into little inkdrops, / And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire / Of the great moon.
The Letter (Amy Lowell) is listed on Textopian as a poem by Amy Lowell, dated 1920 CE.
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love · loss · communication · intimacy · desire · poetry · emotion · relationships · conflict · identity · yearning · vulnerability