#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
Here come the line-gang pioneering… They throw a forest down less cut… They plant dead trees for living,… They string together with a living… They string an instrument against…
The last step taken found your hef… Decidedly upon the left. One more would throw you on the ri… Another still—you see your plight. You call this thinking, but it’s w…
The sound of the closing outside d… You made no sound in the grass wit… As far as you went from the door,… But you had awakened under the mor… The first song-bird that awakened…
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…
Here’s first a gloveless hand warm… A perch and resting place ’twixt w… Bright-black-eyed silvery creature… The wings not folded in repose, bu… (Who would you be, I wonder, by t…
Back out of all this now too much… Back in a time made simple by the… Of detail, burned, dissolved, and… Like graveyard marble sculpture in… There is a house that is no more a…
The rain to the wind said, ‘You push and I’ll pelt.’ They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged– though not dead.
The fisherman’s swapping a yarn fo… Under the hand of the village barb… And her in the angle of house and… His deep-sea dory has found a harb… At anchor she rides the sunny sod
There overtook me and drew me in To his down-hill, early-morning st… And set me five miles on my road Better than if he had had me ride, A man with a swinging bag for’load
This biplane is the shape of human… Its name might better be First Mo… Its makers’ name—Time cannot get… For it was writ in heaven doubly…
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
Out alone in the winter rain, Intent on giving and taking pain. But never was I far out of sight Of a certain upper-window light. The light was what it was all abou…
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
It is blue-butterfly day here in s… And with these sky-flakes down in… There is more unmixed color on the… Than flowers will show for days un… But these are flowers that fly and…
A Stranger came to the door at ev… And he spoke the bridegroom fair. He bore a green-white stick in his… And, for all burden, care. He asked with the eyes more than t…