#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
And do you think that love itself, Living in such an ugly house, Can prosper long? We meet and part; Our talk is all of heres and nows,
Cherish you then the hope I shall… At length, my lord, Pieria?—put a… For your so passing sake, this mou… These mortal bones against my body… For all the puny fever and frail s…
No rose that in a garden ever grew… In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in min… Though buried under centuries of f… Dead dust of roses, shut from sun… Forever, and forever lost from vie…
I drank at every vine. The last was like the first. I came upon no wine So wonderful as thirst. I gnawed at every root.
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,… Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more… Than small white single poppies,—… Thy beauty; though I bend before… From left to right, not knowing wh…
Not even my pride shall suffer muc… Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clu… Be loosed by you and not by me, Will suffer; I have been so true
Whereas at morning in a Jeweled C… I bit my fingers and was hard to p… Having shook disaster till the fru… I feel tonight more happy and at e… Feet running in the corridors, men…
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…
If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs
We talk of taxes, and I call you… Well, such you are,—but well enoug… How thick about us root, how rankl… Those subtle weeds no man has need… That flourish through neglect, and…
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
I know I might have lived in such… As to have suffered only pain: Loving not man nor dog; Not money, even; feeling Toothache perhaps, but never more…
Silver bark of beech, and sallow Bark of yellow birch and yellow Twig of willow. Stripe of green in moosewood maple… Colour seen in leaf of apple,
“Heaven bless the babe!” they said… “What queer books she must have re… (Love, by whom I was beguiled, Grant I may not bear a child.) “Little does she guess to-day
“Wolf!” cried my cunning heart At every sheep it spied, And roused the countryside. “Wolf! Wolf!”—and up would start Good neighbours, bringing spade
