#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
What should I be but a prophet an… Whose mother was a leprechaun, who… Teethed on a crucifix and cradled… What should I be but the fiend’s… And who should be my playmates but…
When I too long have looked upon… Wherein for me a brightness unobsc… Save by the mists of brightness ha… And terrible beauty not to be endu… I turn away reluctant from your li…
I will be the gladdest thing Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one. I will look at cliffs and clouds
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…
There was a road ran past our hous… Too lovely to explore. I asked my mother once—she said That if you followed where it led It brought you to the milk-man’s d…
No, I will go alone. I will come back when it’s over. Yes, of course I love you. No, it will not be long. Why may you not come with me?—
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…
(Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet t… Where now no more the music is, With hands that wrote you little n… I write you little elegies!
Women have loved before as I love… At least, in lively chronicles of… Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mas… Much to their cost invaded—here an…
Love is not all: it is not meat no… Nor slumber nor a roof against the… Nor yet a floating spar to men tha… And rise and sink and rise and sin… Love can not fill the thickened lu…
Spring rides no horses down the hi… But comes on foot, a goose-girl st… And all the loveliest things there… Come simply, so, it seems to me. If ever I said, in grief or pride…
The courage that my mother had Went with her, and is with her sti… Rock from New England quarried; Now granite in a granite hill. The golden brooch my mother wore
Am I kin to Sorrow, That so oft Falls the knocker of my door—— Neither loud nor soft, But as long accustomed,
XLI I, being born a woman and distress… By all the needs and notions of my… Am urged by your propinquity to fi… Your person fair, and feel a certa…
“Wolf!” cried my cunning heart At every sheep it spied, And roused the countryside. “Wolf! Wolf!”—and up would start Good neighbours, bringing spade
