#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
I will put Chaos into fourteen li… And keep him there; and let him th… If he be lucky; let him twist, and… Flood, fire, and demon—his adroit… Will strain to nothing in the stri…
Only until this cigarette is ended… A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the quiet ashes… And in the firelight to a lance ex… Bizarrely with the jazzing music b…
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…
“Curse thee, Life, I will live wi… Thou hast mocked me, starved me, b… And all for a pledge that was not… I have kissed thy crust and eaten… That I might eat again, and met t…
I shall go back again to the bleak… And build a little shanty on the s… In such a way that the extremest b… Of brittle seaweed shall escape my… But by a yard or two; and nevermor…
(Nicola Sacco—Bartolomeo Vanzett… Executed August 23, 1927 As men have loved their lovers in… And sung their wit, their virtue a… So have we loved sweet Justice to…
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friend… It gives a lovely light.
Pity me not because the light of d… At close of day no longer walks th… Pity me not for beauties passed aw… From field and thicket as the the… Pity me not the waning of the moon…
When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, but not for long, Drawing sustenance from air,
I looked in my heart while the wil… And what did I see I had not seen… Only a question less or a question… Nothing to match the flight of wil… Tiresome heart, forever living 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 think I will learn some beautif… Purposes, work hard at that. I think I will learn the Latin na… America but wherever they sing. (Shun meditation, though; invite t…
Down, you mongrel, Death! Back into your kennel! I have stolen breath In a stalk of fennel! You shall scratch and you shall wh…
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
No hawk hangs over in this air: The urgent snow is everywhere. The wing adroiter than a sail Must lean away from such a gale, Abandoning its straight intent,
