#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
This saying good-bye on the edge o… And cold to an orchard so young in… Reminds me of all that can happen… An orchard away at the end of the… All winter, cut off by a hill from…
For Lincoln MacVeagh Never tell me that not one star of… That slip from heaven at night and… Has been picked up with stones to… Some laborer found one faded and s…
My unexpected knocking at the door Started chairs thundering on the k… Knives and forks ringing on the su… Voices conflicting like the candid… A mighty farmer flung the house do…
Lancaster bore him—such a little t… Such a great man. It doesn’t see… Of late years, though he keeps the… And sends the children down there… To run wild in the summer—a little…
The clouds, the source of rain, on… Offered an opening to the source o… Which I accepted with impatient s… Looking for my old skymarks in the… But stars were scarce in that part…
Out of the mud two strangers came And caught me splitting wood in th… And one of them put me off my aim By hailing cheerily “Hit them har… I knew pretty well why he had drop…
A governor it was proclaimed this… When all who would come seeking in… Ancestral memories might come toge… And those of the name Stark gathe… A rock-strewn town where farming h…
Why Tityrus! But you’ve forgotten… I’m Meliboeus the potato man, The one you had the talk with, you… Here on this very campus years ago… Hard times have struck me and I’m…
God made a beatous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden
The swinging mill bell changed its… To tolling like the count of fate, And though at that the tardy ran, One failed to make the closing gat… There was a law of God or man
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
Some one in ancient Mas d’Azil Once took a little pebble wheel And dotted it with red for me, And sent it to me years and years— A million years to be precise—
All crying, ‘We will go with you,… The foliage follow him, leaf and s… But a sleep oppresses them as they… And they end by bidding them as th… And they end by bidding him stay w…
Whose woods these are I think I k… His house is in the village, thoug… He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with sn… My little horse must think it quee…
Was there even a cause too lost, Ever a cause that was lost too lon… Or that showed with the lapse of t… For the generous tears of youth an…