#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…
DUST of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . .
There will be a rusty gun on the w… The rifle grooves curling with fla… A spider will make a silver string… darkest, warmest corner of it. The trigger and the range-finder,…
I AM riding on a limited express,… of the nation. Hurtling across the prairie into b… go fifteen all-steel coaches holdi… (All the coaches shall be scrap an…
Under the open sun and the yellow gloaming embers. They speak to me. I can not tell you what they say. Yesterday and to-morrow cross and mix on the skyline The two are lost in a purple ...
YOUR western heads here cast on… You are the two that fade away tog… Partners in the mist. Lunging buffalo shoulder, Lean Indian face,
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 RIVER is gold under a suns… It is a molten gold someone pours… A woman mixing a wedding cake of b… Knows what the sunset is pouring o… The river twists in a letter S.
I SPOT the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins.
THE bronze General Grant riding… Park Shrivels in the sun by day when th… by in long processions going somew… for dinner and matinees and buying…
I LOVE him, I love him, ran the… And she formed his name on her ton… And she sent him word she loved hi… So much, and death was nothing; wo… All was nothing if her love for hi…
FLING your red scarf faster and… It is summer and the sun loves a m… masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them… The silk and flare of it is a grea…
I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist’s tube to a whispering pinch of salt. Cross ...
‘The past is a bucket of ashes.’ THE WOMAN named To-morrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want…
I WAS born on the prairie and th… slogan. Here the water went down, the iceb… yellow sandy loam. Here between the sheds of the Roc…