#1936 #AFurtherRange #AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize
When the wind works against us in… And pelts with snow The lowest chamber window on the e… And whispers with a sort of stifle… The beast,
Let the downpour roil and toil! The worst it can do to me Is carry some garden soil A little nearer the sea. ’Tis the world-old way of the rain
I came an errand one cloud-blowing… To a slab-built, black-paper-cover… Of one room and one window and one… The only dwelling in a waste cut o… A hundred square miles round it in…
The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not loth to have excuse to go,
The play seems out for an almost i… Don’t mind a little thing like the… The only I worry about is the sun… We’ll be all right if nothing goes…
To think to know the country and n… The hillside on the day the sun le… Ten million silver lizards out of… As often as I’ve seen it done bef… I can’t pretend to tell the way it…
As I went out a Crow In a low voice said, 'Oh, I was looking for you. How do you do? I just came to tell you
Four or five whippoorwills Have come down from their native l… To the open country edge To give us a piece of their bills. Two in June were a pair—
The farm house lingers, though ave… With the new city street it has to… But what about the brook That held the house as in an elbow… I ask as one who knew the brook, i…
Come with rain, O loud Southweste… Bring the singer, bring the nester… Give the buried flower a dream; Make the settled snow—bank steam; Find the brown beneath the white;
There were three in the meadow by… Gathering up windrows, piling hayc… With an eye always lifted toward t… Where an irregular, sun-bordered c… Darkly advanced with a perpetual d…
HERE come the line-gang pioneeri… They throw a forest down less cut… They plant dead trees for living,… They string together with a living… They string an instrument against…
“OH, let’s go up the hill and sca… As reckless as the best of them to… By setting fire to all the brush w… With pitchy hands to wait for rain… Oh, let’s not wait for rain to mak…
Always the same, when on a fated n… At last the gathered snow lets dow… As may be in dark woods, and with… It shall not make again all winter… Of hissing on the yet uncovered gr…
When I was young my teachers were… I gave up fire for form till I wa… I suffered like a metal being cast… I went to school to age to learn t… Now when I am old my teachers are…