Sara Teasdale, comp. (1884–1933).
The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women. 1917.


Amy Lowell

BE not angry with me that I bear

Your colors everywhere,

All through each crowded street,

And meet

The wonder-light in every eye,

As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,

Blinded by rainbow haze,

The stuff of happiness,

No less,

Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds

Of peacock golds.

Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way

Flushes beneath its gray.

My steps fall ringed with light,

So bright,

It seems a myriad suns are strown

About the town.

Around me is the sound of steepled bells,

And rich perfumed smells

Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,

And shroud

Me from close contact with the world.

I dwell impearled.

You blazon me with jeweled insignia.

A flaming nebula

Rims in my life. And yet

You set

The word upon me, unconfessed

To go unguessed.