#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
From where I lingered in a lull i… outside the sugar-house one night… I called the fireman with a carefu… And bade him leave the pan and sto… ‘O fireman, give the fire another…
If tires of trees I seek again mankind, Well I know where to hie me—in the dawn, To a slope where the cattle keep the lawn. There amid loggin juniper reclined, Myself unseen, I see in w...
Where’s this barn’s house? It nev… Or joined with sheds in ring-aroun… The hunter scuffling leaves goes b… The gun reversed that he went out… The harvest moon and then the hunt…
We sit indoors and talk of the col… And every gust that gathers streng… Is a threat to the house. But the… We think of the tree. If it never… We’ll know, we say, that this was…
My long two-pointed ladder’s stick… Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’… Beside it, and there may be two or… Apples I didn’t pick upon some bo…
I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place?
It is late at night and still I a… But still I am steady and unaccus… As long as the Declaration guards My right to be equal in number of… It is nothing to me who runs the…
I have wished a bird would fly awa… And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from… When it seemed as if I could bear… The fault must partly have been in…
`You know Orion always comes up s… Throwing a leg up over our fence o… And rising on his hands, he looks… Busy outdoors by lantern—light wit… I should have done by daylight, an…
Dust always blowing about the town… Except when sea—fog laid it down, And I was one of the children tol… Some of the blowing dust was gold. All the dust the wind blew high
I found a dimpled spider, fat and… On a white heal-all, holding up a… Like a white piece of rigid satin… Assorted characters of death and b… Mixed ready to begin the morning r…
The line—storm clouds fly tattered… The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones… And the hoof—prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for…
Her teacher’s certainty it must be… Made Maple first take notice of h… She asked her father and he told h… Maple is right.’ ‘But teacher told the school
There is a singer everyone has hea… Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood… Who makes the solid tree trunks so… He says that leaves are old and th… Mid-summer is to spring as one to…
Such a fine pullet ought to go All coiffured to a winter show, And be exhibited, and win. The answer is this one has been— And come with all her honors home.