#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
The bear puts both arms around the… And draws it down as if it were a… And its choke cherries lips to kis… Then lets it snap back upright in… Her next step rocks a boulder on t…
I Dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar w… And a cellar in which the daylight… And the purple-stemmed wild raspbe…
I never dared be radical when youn… For fear it would make me conserva…
It is getting dark and time he dre… But the blizzard blinds him to any… The storm gets down his neck in an… That sucks his breath like a wicke… The snow blows on him and off him,…
Sea waves are green and wet, But up from where they die, Rise others vaster yet, And those are brown and dry. They are the sea made land
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…
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…
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…
I turned to speak to God About the world’s despair; But to make bad matters worse I found God wasn’t there. God turned to speak to me
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…
The grade surmounted, we were ridi… Through level mountains nothing to… But scrub oak, scrub oak and the l… That kept the oaks from getting an… But as through the monotony we ran…
Others taunt me with having knelt… Always wrong to the light, so neve… Deeper down in the well than where… Gives me back in a shining surface… Me myself in the summer heaven god…
`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…
Never have I been glad or sad That there was such a thing as bad… There had to be, I understood, For there to have been any good. It was by having been contrasted
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…