The Giver of Stars: Six Poems of Amy Lowell

Hold your soul open for my welcoming. 
Let the quiet of your spirit bathe me 
With its clear and rippled coolness, 
That, loose-limbed and weary, I find rest, 
Outstretched upon your peace, as on a bed of ivory. 

Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me, 
That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire, 
The life and joy of tongues of flame, 
And, going out from you, tightly strung and in tune, 
I may rouse the blear-eyed world, 
And pour into it the beauty which you have begotten.