#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
A GOLDWING moth is between the… Last night it flew hundreds of cir… The wings are a soft gold; it is t…
I KNOW a Jew fish crier down on… voice like a north wind blowing ov… in January. He dangles herring before prospect… a joy identical with that of Pavlo…
I DRANK musty ale at the Illino… the millionaire manufacturer of Gr… one night And his face had the shining light… he spoke of a beautiful daughter,…
Wagon wheel gap is a place I neve… And Red Horse Gulch and the chut… Red-shirted miners picking in the… Gamblers with red neckties in the… The fly-by-night towns of Bull Fr…
I AM a copper wire slung in the a… Slim against the sun I make not e… Night and day I keep singing—humm… It is love and war and money; it i… tears, the work and want,
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...
THEY are crying salt tears Over the beautiful beloved body Of Inez Milholland, Because they are glad she lived, Because she loved open-armed,
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
LET down your braids of hair, lad… Cross your legs and sit before the… And gaze long on lines under your… Life writes; men dance. And you know how men pay women.
LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O… Yesterday I loosed a snarl of wor… on a child. To-day, let me be monosyllabic … a… who wash sunlight in their fingers…
I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum… I hate and kill better men than I… In the ends of my fingers the itch… This is the hate my father gave me… Let us go on, brother hoodlums, le…
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…
WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin … in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall S...
THE WEST window is a panel of m… Five new lilacs nod to the wind an… The rain dry fence boards, the sta… (How long ago the knee drifts here…
or a man out of the ashes of false dawn muttering 'hot-dog’ to the night watchmen: Is there a spieler who has spoken the word or taken the number of night’s nothings? am I the spieler? ...
