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About this poet

On March 1, 1917, Robert Lowell was born into one of Boston's oldest and most prominent families. He attended Harvard College for two years before transferring to Kenyon College, where he studied poetry under John Crowe Ransom and received an undergraduate degree in 1940. He took graduate courses at Louisiana State University where he studied with Robert Penn Warren and Cleanth Brooks.

His first and second books, Land of Unlikeness (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1944) and Lord Weary's Castle (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1946), for which he received a Pulitzer Prize in 1947 at the age of thirty, were influenced by his conversion from Episcopalianism to Catholicism and explored the dark side of America's Puritan legacy. Under the influence of Allen Tate and the New Critics, he wrote rigorously formal poetry that drew praise for its exceptionally powerful handling of meter and rhyme. Lowell was politically involved—he became a conscientious objector during the Second World War and was imprisoned as a result, and actively protested against the war in Vietnam—and his personal life was full of marital and psychological turmoil. He suffered from severe episodes of manic depression, for which he was repeatedly hospitalized.

Partly in response to his frequent breakdowns, and partly due to the influence of such younger poets as W. D. Snodgrass and Allen Ginsberg, Lowell in the mid-1950s began to write more directly from personal experience, and loosened his adherence to traditional meter and form. The result was a watershed collection, Life Studies (Faber and Faber, 1959), which forever changed the landscape of modern poetry, much as Eliot's The Waste Land had three decades before. Considered by many to be the most important poet in English of the second half of the twentieth century, Lowell continued to develop his work with sometimes uneven results, all along defining the restless center of American poetry, until his sudden death on September 12, 1977, from a heart attack at age sixty. Robert Lowell served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 1962 until his death.


Selected Bibliography

Poetry

Day by Day (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1977)
Selected Poems (Farrar Straus and Giroux, 1976)
The Dolphin (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973)
For Lizzie and Harriet (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973)
History (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973)
Notebooks, 1967-1968 (1969)
The Voyage and Other Versions of Poems by Baudelaire (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1968)
Near the Ocean (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1967)
Selected Poems (Faber and Faber, 1965)
For the Union Dead (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1964)
Imitations (Farrar, Straus and Cudahy, 1961)
Life Studies (Faber and Faber, 1959)
The Mills of the Kavanaughs (Harcourt, Brace, 1951)
Poems, 1938-1949 (Faber and Faber, 1950)
Lord Weary‘s Castle (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1946)
Land of Unlikeness (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1944)

Prose

The Collected Prose (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1987)

Anthology

Prometheus Bound (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1969)
Phaedra and Figaro (Farrar, Straus and Cudahy, 1961)

Drama

The Old Glory (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1965)


Multimedia

From the Image Archive

 

Home After Three Months Away

Robert Lowell, 1917 - 1977
Gone now the baby's nurse,
a lioness who ruled the roost
and made the Mother cry.
She used to tie
gobbets of porkrind in bowknots of gauze--
three months they hung like soggy toast
on our eight foot magnolia tree,
and helped the English sparrows
weather a Boston winter.

Three months, three months! 
Is Richard now himself again?
Dimpled with exaltation,
my daughter holds her levee in the tub.
Our noses rub,
each of us pats a stringy lock of hair--
they tell me nothing's gone.
Though I am forty-one,
not forty now, the time I put away
was child's play.  After thirteen weeks
my child still dabs her cheeks
to start me shaving.  When
we dress her in her sky-blue corduroy,
she changes to a boy,
and floats my shaving brush
and washcloth in the flush. . . .
Dearest I cannot loiter here
in lather like a polar bear.

Recuperating, I neither spin nor toil.
Three stories down below,
a choreman tends our coffin's length of soil,
and seven horizontal tulips blow.
Just twelve months ago,
these flowers were pedigreed
imported Dutchmen; no no one need
distinguish them from weed.
Bushed by the late spring snow,
they cannot meet
another year's snowballing enervation.

I keep no rank nor station.
Cured, I am frizzled, stale and small.

From Selected Poems by Robert Lowell, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1976, 1977 by Robert Lowell. Used by permission.

From Selected Poems by Robert Lowell, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1976, 1977 by Robert Lowell. Used by permission.

Robert Lowell

Robert Lowell

Robert Lowell's poetry collection Life Studies is considered by many to have changed the landscape of modern poetry.

by this poet

poem
Wallowing in this bloody sty,
I cast for fish that pleased my eye
(Truly Jehovah's bow suspends
No pots of gold to weight its ends);
Only the blood-mouthed rainbow trout
Rose to my bait.  They flopped about
My canvas creel until the moth
Corrupted its unstable cloth.

A calendar to tell the day;
A handkerchief
poem

 

Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.

poem
For Elizabeth Bishop


Nautilus Island's hermit
heiress still lives through winter in her Spartan cottage;
her sheep still graze above the sea.
Her son's a bishop.  Her farmer
is first selectman in our village,
she's in her dotage.

Thirsting for
the hierarchic privacy
of Queen Victoria's century,
she