September twenty-second, Sir, the bough cracks with unpicked apples, and at dawn the small-mouth bass breaks water, gorged with spawn.
Robert Lowell
September twenty-second, Sir, ...
Quotes from the same author
the scythers, Time and Death,
Helmed locusts, move upon the tree of breath
Robert Lowell
Everywhere, giant finned cars nose forward like fish; a savage servility slides by on grease.
Robert Lowell
The world is absolutely out of control now and is not going to be saved by any reason or unreason.
Robert Lowell
I saw the spiders marching through the air, Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day In latter August when the hay Came creaking to the barn. But where The wind is westerly, Where gnarled November makes the spiders fly Into the apparitions of the sky, They purpose nothing but their ease and die Urgently beating east to sunrise and the sea.
Robert Lowell
