Cornhuskers. 1918.
#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
OUT of the fire Came a man sunken To less than cinders, A tea-cup of ashes or so. And I,
THE SEA is large. The sea hold on a leg of land in t… Five white houses on a half-mile s… Not so long ago … the sea was larg… And to-day the sea has lost nothin…
THE TELESCOPE picks off star… on the clean steel sky and sends i… The telephone picks off my voice a… sends it cross country a thousand… The eyes in my head pick off pages…
I was a boy when I heard three re… a thousand Frenchmen died in the s… for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternit… why men die for words. I was older; men with mustaches, s…
A father sees his son nearing manh… What shall he tell that son? ‘Life is hard; be steel; be a rock… And this might stand him for the s… and serve him for humdrum monotony
MANY birds and the beating of wi… Make a flinging reckless hum In the early morning at the rocks Above the blue pool Where the gray shadows swim lazy.
NOTHING else in this song-only… Nothing else here-only your drinki… The pier runs into the lake straig… I stand on the pier and sing how… It is not your eyes, your face, I…
SOMEBODY loses whenever somebo… This was known to the Chaldeans l… And more: somebody wins whenever s… This too was in the savvy of the… They take it heaven’s hereafter is…
I HAVE ransacked the encyclopedi… And slid my fingers among topics a… Looking for you. And the answer comes slow. There seems to be no answer.
I WISH to God I never saw you,… I wish you never quit your job and… I wish we never bought a license a… For you to get married in the day… And told him we would love each ot…
WHEN the sea is everywhere from horizon to horizon .. when the salt and blue fill a circle of horizons .. I swear again how I know
I SAW Man, the man-hunter, Hunting with a torch in one hand And a kerosene can in the other, Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles… I listened
BY day the skyscraper looms in th… has a soul. Prairie and valley, streets of the… it and they mingle among its twent… poured out again back to the stree…
A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red rose...
The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want… and fastens at last the last braid…