Sword Blades and Poppy Seed

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Author: Amy Lowell

Stupidity

Dearest, forgive that with my clumsy touch
I broke and bruised your rose.
I hardly could suppose
It were a thing so fragile that my clutch
Could kill it, thus.

It stood so proudly up upon its stem,
I knew no thought of fear,
And coming very near
Fell, overbalanced, to your garment’s hem,
Tearing it down.

Now, stooping, I upgather, one by one,
The crimson petals, all
Outspread about my fall.
They hold their fragrance still, a blood-red cone
Of memory.

And with my words I carve a little jar
To keep their scented dust,
Which, opening, you must
Breathe to your soul, and, breathing, know me far
More grieved than you.

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Chicago: Amy Lowell, "Stupidity," Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, ed. Callaway, Morgan, Jr., 1962- in Sword Blades and Poppy Seed (New York: George E. Wood, 1850), Original Sources, accessed April 19, 2018, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CZQBF2RJI8MG2KG.

MLA: Lowell, Amy. "Stupidity." Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, edited by Callaway, Morgan, Jr., 1962-, in Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, New York, George E. Wood, 1850, Original Sources. 19 Apr. 2018. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CZQBF2RJI8MG2KG.

Harvard: Lowell, A, 'Stupidity' in Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, ed. . cited in 1850, Sword Blades and Poppy Seed, George E. Wood, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 19 April 2018, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CZQBF2RJI8MG2KG.