#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
INTO my heart’s treasury I slipped a coin That time cannot take Nor a thief purloin,— Oh better than the minting
I think the moon is very kind To take such trouble just for me. He came along with me from home To keep me company. He went as fast as I could run;
Dreamily over the roofs The cold spring rain is falling, Out in the lonely tree A bird is calling, calling. Slowly over the earth
No one worth possessing Can be quite possessed; Lay that on your heart, My young angry dear; This truth, this hard and precious…
Here in the velvet stillness The wide sown fields fall to the f… Sleeping in starlight. . . . A year ago we walked in the jangli… Together . . . . forgetful.
Beside an ebbing northern sea While stars awaken one by one, We walk together, I and he. He woos me with an easy grace That proves him only half sincere;
I wish for such a lot of things That never will come true, And yet I want them all so much I think they might, don’t you? I want a little kitty-cat
I have remembered beauty in the ni… Against black silences I waked to… A shower of sunlight over Italy And green Ravello dreaming on her… I have remembered music in the dar…
HOW many times we must have met Here on the street as strangers do… Children of chance we were, who pa… The door of heaven and never knew.
Hope went by and Peace went by And would not enter in; Youth went by and Health wnt by And Love that is their kin. Those within the house shed tears
Now while my lips are living Their words must stay unsaid, And will my soul remember To speak when I am dead? Yet if my soul remembered
Shall we, too, rise forgetful from… And shall my soul that lies within… Remember nothing, as the blowing s… Forgets the palm where long blue s… When winds along the darkened dese…
I have loved hours at sea, gray ci… The fragile secret of a flower, Music, the making of a poem That gave me heaven for an hour; First stars above a snowy hill,
They never saw my lover’s face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep,
(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.) HE was a soldier in that fight Where there is neither flag nor dr… And without sound of musketry The stealthy foemen come.