#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle’s cork. “Won’t you come and play wiz me” she sang... and “I just can’t make my eyes behave.” “Higgeldy-Pig...
I REMEMBER once I ran after y… shirt of you in the wind. Once many days ago I drank a glas… the picture of you shivered and sl… stuff.
JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...
STORMS have beaten on this poin… And ships gone to wreck here and the passers-by remember it with talk on the deck at night as they near it.
This flower is repeated out of old winds, out of old times. The wind repeats these, it must have these, over and
I AM an ancient reluctant conscri… On the soup wagons of Xerxes I wa… On the march of Miltiades’ phalan… I had a bristling gleaming spear-h… Red-headed Cæsar picked me for a…
LET us sit by a hissing steam rad… And let us talk about milk wagon d… Let us keep our feet in wool slipp… Let us write of olden, golden days… A roustabout hunched on a coal wag…
I WAITED today for a freight tr… Cattle cars with steers butting th… bars, went by. And a half a dozen hoboes stood on… cars.
THE LADY in red, she in the chi… Brilliant as the shine of a pepper… She behind a false-face, the much… The lady in red sox and red hat, a… I sit in a corner
I AM glad God saw Death And gave Death a job taking care… of living: When all the wheels in a clock are… the connections loose
Thousands of sheep, soft-footed, b… one by one going up the hill and o… one four-footed pattering up and o… their stub tails as they take the… over—one by one silently unless fo…
NANCY HANKS dreams by the fir… Dreams, and the logs sputter, And the yellow tongues climb. Red lines lick their way in flicke… Oh, sputter, logs.
Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…
ONE by one lights of a skyscraper… I believe the skyscraper loves nig… And loves the white of her shoulde… The masonry of steel looks to the… He is a little dizzy and almost da…
(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....