#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
(He speaks, but to himself, being… Think not I have not heard. Well-fanged the double word And well-directed flew. I felt it. Down my side
Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now; All you loved of her lies here. Brought to earth the arrogant brow… And the withering tongue
Love, though for this you riddle m… And drag me at your chariot till… Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of… Yet hear me tell how in their thro… Who shout you mighty: thick about…
And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - So much is true. And why you come complaining
Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine,—O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any other! (I, that would not wait to wear
When we are old and these rejoicin… Are frosty channels to a muted str… And out of all our burning their r… No feeblest spark to fire us, even… This be our solace: that it was no…
When reeds are dead and a straw to… And feathered pampas-grass rides i… Like aged warriors westward, tragi… Of half their tribe, and over the… Stripped of its secret, open, star…
“Thin Rain, whom are you haunting… That you haunt my door?” —Surely it is not I she’s wanting… Someone living here before— “Nobody’s in the house but me:
This door you might not open, and… So enter now, and see for what sli… You are betrayed.... Here is no t… No cauldron, no clear crystal mirr… The sought-for truth, no heads of…
My heart is what it was before, A house where people come and go; But it is winter with your love, The sashes are beset with snow. I light the lamp and lay the cloth…
Being Young and Green, I said in… Never in the world will I to livi… Give over, air my mind To anyone, Hang out its ancient secrets in th…
The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the train… Would make a sound as thin and swe… As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade
My most Distinguished Guest and… The pallid hare that runs before t… Having brought your earnest counse… Now have I somewhat of my own to… That it is folly to be sunk in lov…
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,—presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain
I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little pool Left there by the tide,