Amy Lowell
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem captures a fleeting autumn afternoon, rich in beauty and small joys, but overshadowed by the weight of a world at war. The contrast between the vivid, sensory details of the present moment and the looming awareness of global turmoil gives the poem its quiet, aching power.
The imagery in the opening lines is light-filled and fluid: water falling through sunlight, trees glittering, sidewalks shining. The movement of leaves, the openness of houses, and the laughter implied in their windows all create a sense of warmth and ease. The world is alive, full of small, perfect details—a golden afternoon seemingly untouched by conflict.
But there is a shift when the two boys appear, collecting red berries with childlike focus. Their small act of gathering suggests innocence and an appreciation for simple things, yet it also carries a subtle weight. The red berries could symbolize something fragile, perhaps even something lost, much like the peaceful world the speaker longs for.
The speaker’s longing becomes clear in the lines about a future without war. In that imagined future, this afternoon will be something to savor, something to turn over like a cherished object, appreciating all its textures and tastes. The idea of preserving this moment, storing it away for later reflection, is both beautiful and heartbreaking. It suggests that right now, in the midst of war, there is no time to fully experience or enjoy it.
The final lines are the most poignant. The speaker can only “gather” the moment and “put it into my lunch-box”—a metaphor for saving it as best they can, but also a reminder that survival takes precedence over reflection. The world is broken, and staying upright in it requires constant effort. There is no space for the full appreciation of beauty, only the hope that one day there will be.
The poem is quiet, almost conversational, but beneath its simple observations is a deep sadness. It captures the dissonance of war: how life continues with its small, beautiful moments, yet they cannot be fully embraced when destruction looms so close. The speaker does not rail against war or describe its horrors explicitly, but the weight of it is present in what they do not say, in what they must put aside for now.