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9 de mai. de 2024 · Amy Lowell (born Feb. 9, 1874, Brookline, Mass., U.S.—died May 12, 1925, Brookline) was an American critic, lecturer, and a leading poet of the Imagist school. Lowell came from a prominent Massachusetts family (her brothers were Abbott Lawrence Lowell, later president of Harvard, and astronomer Percival Lowell ).
- The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica
Há 5 dias · What’s O’Clock by Amy Lowell (1926) Lowell was a major figure in the imagist movement, and it shows. With a focus on simplicity, clarity, and precision through the use of visual images, Lowell drove the movement forward with her determined personality and sense of humor.
Há 4 dias · Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school, which promoted a return to classical values. She posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926. Life. Amy Lowell was born on February 9, 1874, in Boston, Massachusetts, the daughter of Augustus Lowell and Katherine Bigelow Lowell.
8 de mai. de 2024 · “Lilacs” by Amy Lowell In “Lilacs,” Amy Lowell paints a vivid picture of the delicate lilac blossoms that emerge with the arrival of spring. She skillfully intertwines sensory imagery with the anticipation of warmer days, evoking the essence of renewal and growth that defines the season.
3 de mai. de 2024 · Amy Lawrence Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925) was an American poet of the imagist school, which promoted a return to classical values. She posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1926.
26 de abr. de 2024 · Amy Lowell’s poem “The Garden by Moonlight” stands out as a vivid and sensory exploration of the beauty of nature and the fleeting moments of human existence. What sets this poem apart is Lowell’s masterful use of a variety of poetic devices, creating multi-layered imagery that breathes life into the garden.
Há 3 dias · Sneered languidly over his quail. Then my heart flew up and laboured, And I burst from my own holding. And hurled myself forward. With straight blows I beat upon him, Furiously, with red-hot anger, I thrust against him. But my weapon slithered over his polished surface, And I recoiled upon myself, Panting.
