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Amy Lowell - The Green Bowl
Work rating: Low

This little bowl is like a mossy pool 
In a Spring wood, where dogtooth violets grow 
Nodding in chequered sunshine of the trees; 
A quiet place, still, with the sound of birds, 
Where, though unseen, is heard the endless song 
And murmur of the never resting sea. 
`T was winter, Roger, when you made this cup, 
But coming Spring guided your eager hand 
And round the edge you fashioned young green leaves, 
A proper chalice made to hold the shy 
And little flowers of the woods. And here 
They will forget their sad uprooting, lost 
In pleasure that this circle of bright leaves 
Should be their setting; once more they will dream 
They hear winds wandering through lofty trees 
And see the sun smiling between the leaves.
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