Patterns
I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
And the splashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden-paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
And the sliding of the water
Seems the stroking of a dear
Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.
I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the buckles on his shoes.
I would choose
To lead him in a maze along the patterned paths,
A bright and laughing maze for my heavy-booted lover.
Till he caught me in the shade,
And the buttons of his waistcoat bruised my body as he clasped me,
Aching, melting, unafraid.
With the shadows of the leaves and the sundrops,
And the plopping of the waterdrops,
All about us in the open afternoon--
I am very like to swoon
With the weight of this brocade,
For the sun sifts through the shade.
Underneath the fallen blossom
In my bosom,
Is a letter I have hid.
It was brought to me this morning by a rider from the Duke.
"Madam, we regret to inform you that Lord Hartwell
Died in action Thursday se'nnight."
As I read it in the white, morning sunlight,
The letters squirmed like snakes.
"Any answer, Madam," said my footman.
"No," I told him.
"See that the messenger takes some refreshment.
No, no answer."
And I walked into the garden,
Up and down the patterned paths,
In my stiff, correct brocade.
The blue and yellow flowers stood up proudly in the sun,
Each one.
I stood upright too,
Held rigid to the pattern
By the stiffness of my gown.
Up and down I walked,
Up and down.
In a month he would have been my husband.
In a month, here, underneath this lime,
We would have broke the pattern;
He for me, and I for him,
He as Colonel, I as Lady,
On this shady seat.
He had a whim
That sunlight carried blessing.
And I answered, "It shall be as you have said."
Now he is dead.
In Summer and in Winter I shall walk
Up and down
The patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
The squills and daffodils
Will give place to pillared roses, and to asters, and to snow.
I shall go
Up and down
In my gown.
Gorgeously arrayed,
Boned and stayed.
And the softness of my body will be guarded from embrace
By each button, hook, and lace.
For the man who should loose me is dead,
Fighting with the Duke in Flanders,
In a pattern called a war.
Christ! What are patterns for?
Commentary
I would like to submit one of my favorite poems first read in high school. The title is accented in the fabric of the words, evoking a rich and varied visual pattern. The cry of the poem evoked similar emotions, especially the desire to break free of patterns. Yet, as one matures, the special significance of the poem is highlighted. We cannot completely free ourselves of the pattern of our lives, even though we rebel against it. What do you think?
— Yvette
[Martin adds: Lovely poem. There’s a compelling rhythm underlying the apparently unmetred verses, reinforced by the brilliantly irregular rhyme scheme (seldom have I seen that done better). Very appropriate in a poem about Patterns, which was doubtless the effect Lowell was trying for.]
Links
There’s a Lowell biography at poem #102
Show 8 commentsHide comments
From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Ira Cooper · 23 December 2000
As a person who grew up during the Viet Nam war period, I am always appreciative of an anti-war poem. This one, “Patterns,” is excellent, focusing in on war’s devestating effect on a girlfriend left behind (for lack of a better way to put it). In fact, one of the most significant things that formed my opinion back then was the poem, “Dulce et Decorum . . .” It may have appeared on this e-group.
MGill01 · 28 January 2003
decided to look up poem on internaet by christ whaat are patterns for that i remembered from high school one of my favorites and important to me as i lost someone in vietnam so always think of that poem so thankyou so much for posting one of your favorites as is mine i have been unable to find it in books over the years and now after over 30 years i finally have ilt thankyou thank you this has made my week my search is over
Judy Sharpton · 18 March 2003
After listening to George Bush talk about a war of which he knows nothing, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning searching my mind for fragments of this poem. I taught it to high school students many years ago when the war in Vietnam was a new wound and my high school boyfriend’s grave was fresh. But I had lost it in my books and in my memory. I could retrieve only a few lines and even had to strain after the title. Thanks to your site, here it is for me in its entirety. It’s even more poignant than I remembered. It’s no wonder my mind sought this sensual response to the awfulness of war. It seems royalty still has the power to send young women into wailing sorrow. And, the questions remain unanswered.
Thank you.
Judy
Rebecca Dang · 12 April 2005
At first I did not understand the essence of this poem “Patterns.” However, after our teacher helped us explicate it line by line and in some sections, word by word, I realized that I really enjoy reading this poem. Quickly reading through it for the first time, I thought that it was yet another piece of female American literature that expressed contempt and/or annoyance with the discrimination they faced during the time (I’m not arguing against them doing so because I believe in gender equality even today, but some poems are dismissed in my mind–all I remember is that a certain poem was satirical towards womens’ roles during the nineteenth century or what not). I failed to see the significance of the title, “Patterns.” It amazes me that Amy Lowell was able to so adroitly write a piece that discusses a seemingly broad range of topics (all captured in one word: patterns) and evoke emotions from such a vast number of people. Her poem, through repetition and diction, is indicative of her (and other women during the mid-late 1700s) “war” against breaking the norms for women in society as well as her point of view on the absurdity of, literally, war. A poem that takes place centuries ago was popular, as many other people commented, during the Vietnam war, as well as now with the Iraq war (and will probably continue to stir up feelings concerning sexism and/or war for future circumstances).
-Becky-
Kate · 12 April 2005
After reading all these comments, I find it amazing that a poem based during a war of the 1700’s is still so relavent to many people today. Whether it’s the Vietnam War, or the War in Iraq, is seems that the same pattern is repeated. When one man kills another on the battle field, it starts a chain reaction of devastation that ends up killing (maybe not literally) many more people than one would initially think. Human beings are naturally obsessed with patterns; we can’t comprehend a world without them. Perhaps this is why a bad pattern continues, even though it hurts so many. ~Kate
Jetliapprentice · 13 April 2005
i like this poem, very interesting style because of the fact that she titles the poem: “Patterns” yet there are no consistent patterns throughout the entirety of the poem. for example there are never any consistencies with line syllables and rhyme scheme which i find ver interesting. I enjoyed reading this because it was… surprising that you read the poem and it never had consistency and it was all over the place but at the end, you find that it was all for a reson and i found that very… likeable and awesome.
~arthur
Kai Doo · 13 April 2005
I thought it was very interesting how the poem had such beautiful imagery, yet it was sullen. Amy Lowell was able to effectively create this contrast in her poem without making it sound awkward. She created a wonderful setting and placed a sorrowful drama inside.
Tamara Haddad · 29 November 2006
did anybody take into account that this poem is perfect to disscuss feminist theory? the “passion [that]
Wars against the stiff brocade” could certainly portray the speaker’s desire to break from the “pattern” of the learned female gender role.