Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
May Evening in Central ParkAmy Lowell
From “Chalks: Black, Red, White”
L
Splinter the black water,
And all through
The dim park
Are lamps
Hanging among the trees.
But they are only like fire-flies
Pricking the darkness,
And I lean my body against it
And spread out my fingers
To let it drift through them.
I am a swimmer
In the damp night,
Or a bird
Floating over the sucking grasses.
I am a lover
Tracking the silver foot-prints
Of the moon.
I am a young man,
In Central Park,
With Spring
Bursting over me.
Although this is not the country;
And I whisper beautiful, hot words,
Although I am alone,
And a few more steps
Will bring me
The glare and suffocation
Of bright streets.