Leisure, thou goddess of a bygone age,
When hours were long and days sufficed to hold
Wide-eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled
By shortening moments, when no gaunt presage
Of undone duties, modern heritage,
Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold
Thy presence from this over-busy world,
And bearing silence with thee disengage
Our twined fortunes? Deeps of unhewn woods
Alone can cherish thee, alone possess
Thy quiet, teeming vigor. This our crime:
Not to have worshipped, marred by alien moods
That sole condition of all loveliness,
The dreaming lapse of slow, unmeasured time.


About this poem
"Leisure" was published in Amy Lowell's book "A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass" (Houghton Mifflin Co., 1912).

About Amy Lowell
Amy Lowell was born on Feb. 9, 1874, in Brookline, Mass. Her books include "Sword Blades and Poppy Seed" (1914) and the Pulitzer Prize-winning book "What's O' Clock" (1925). Lowell died on May 12, 1925, in Massachusetts.

***
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.


This poem is in the public domain. Distributed by King Features Syndicate