Amy Lowell: Apology


Amy Lowell

Be not angry with me that I bear    Your colours 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 perfuméd smells    Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,       And shroud    Me from close contact with the world.       I dwell impearled.
You blazon me with jewelled insignia.    A flaming nebula    Rims in my life.  And yet       You set    The word upon me, unconfessed       To go unguessed.