#1936 #AFurtherRange #AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize
The white-tailed hornet lives in a… That floats against the ceiling of… The exit he comes out at like a bu… Is like the pupil of a pointed gun… And having power to change his aim…
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…
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…
I slumbered with your poems on my… Spread open as I dropped them hal… Like dove wings on a figure on a t… To see, if in a dream they brought… I might not have the chance I mis…
Her Word One ought not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the… To seem to say good—bye;
When a friend calls to me from the… And slows his horse to a meaning w… I don’t stand still and look aroun… On all the hills I haven’t hoed, And shout from where I am, What i…
The land was ours before we were t… She was our land more than a hundr… Before we were her people. She wa… In Massachusetts, in Virginia, But we were England’s, still colo…
There was never a sound beside the… And that was my long scythe whispe… What was it it whispered? I knew… Perhaps it was something about the… Something, perhaps, about the lack…
A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to… For a poem there used to be on Sp… I tried to tell her “There’s no s… For whom would a poem on Spring b…
It was too lonely for her there, And too wild, And since there were but two of th… And no child, And work was little in the house,
‘Fred, where is north?’ ‘North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.’ ‘West—running Brook then call it.… (West—Running Brook men call it t…
Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons. I make a great noise
The bearer of evil tidings, When he was halfway there, Remembered that evil tidings Were a dangerous thing to bear. So when he came to the parting
There were three in the meadow by… Gathering up windrows, piling cock… With an eye always lifted toward t… Where an irregular sun—bordered cl… Darkly advanced with a perpetual d…
Builder, in building the little ho… In every way you may please yourse… But please please me in the kitche… Don’t build me a chimney upon a sh… However far you must go for bricks…