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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Amy Lowell

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Balls

Amy Lowell

THROW the blue ball above the little twigs of the tree-tops,

And cast the yellow ball straight at the buzzing stars.

All our life is a flinging of colored balls

to impossible distances.

And in the end what have we?

A tired arm—a tip-tilted nose.

Ah! Well! Give me the purple one.

Wouldn’t it be a fine thing if I could make it stick

On top of the Methodist steeple?