#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
The little old house was out with… In front at the edge of the road w… A roadside stand that too pathetic… It would not be fair to say for a… But for some of the money, the cas…
A plow, they say, to plow the snow… They cannot mean to plant it, no— Unless in bitterness to mock At having cultivated rock.
We saw leaves go to glory, Then almost migratory Go part way down the lane, And then to end the story Get beaten down and pasted
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…
Two roads diverged in a yellow woo… And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I c… To where it bent in the undergrowt…
Square Matthew Hale’s young graft… Began to blossom at the age of fiv… And after having entertained the b… And cast its flowers and all the s… It set itself to keep those three…
Out walking in the frozen swamp on… I paused and said, 'I will turn b… No, I will go on farther—and we s… The hard snow held me, save where… One foot went through. The view w…
Some things are never clear. But the weather is clear tonight, Thanks to a clearing rain. The mountains are brought up near, The stars are brought out bright.
To Time it never seems that he is… To set himself against the peaks o… To lay them level with the running… Nor is he overjoyed when they lie… But only grave, contemplative and…
Some say the world will end in fir… Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice,
I felt the chill of the meadow und… But the sun overhead; And snatches of verse and song of… I sung or said. I skirted the margin alders for mi…
Oh, stormy stormy world, The days you were not swirled Around with mist and cloud, Or wrapped as in a shroud, And the sun’s brilliant ball
As I have known them passionate a… The gold for which they leave the… Of lyric is a golden light divine, Never the gold of darkness from a… The spirit plays us strange religi…
The people along the sand All turn and look one way. They turn their back on the land. They look at the sea all day. As long as it takes to pass
It is as true as Caesar’s name wa… That no economist was ever wiser (Though prodigal himself and a des… Of capital and calling thrift a mi… And when we get too far apart in w…