What torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant; and however kind,
However welcome still, the weary mind
Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught
Remembers on unceasingly; unsought
The old delight is with us but to find
That all recurring joy is pain refined,
Become a habit, and we struggle, caught.
You lie upon my heart as on a nest,
Folded in peace, for you can never know
How crushed I am with having you at rest
Heavy upon my life. I love you so
You bind my freedom from its rightful quest.
In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.


About this poem
"A Fixed Idea" was first published in The Atlantic Monthly in 1910, and then was published in Lowell's collection "A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass" (Houghton Mifflin, 1912).

About Amy Lowell
Amy Lowell was born on Feb. 9, 1874, in Brookline, Mass. Her collections of poetry include "Sword Blades and Poppy Seed" (The Macmillan Company, 1914) and "What's a Clock" (Houghton Mifflin, 1925). She died on May 12, 1925, and posthumously won the Pulitzer Prize in 1926.

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This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate