#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
I am not sorry for my soul That it must go unsatisfied, For it can live a thousand times, Eternity is deep and wide. I am not sorry for my soul,
THE sun was gone, and the moon wa… Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was fl… And over my head the swallows rush… This way and that, with changeful…
What can I give you, my lord, my… You who have given the world to me… Showed me the light and the joy th… The wild sweet earth and the restl… All that I have are gifts of your…
Your lines that linger for us down… Like sparks that tell the glory of… Still keep alight the splendor of… And living still, they sting us in… Sole perfect singer that the world…
I’m happy, I’m happy, I saw my love to-day. He came along the crowded street, By all the ladies gay, And oh, he smiled and spoke to me
It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it,
If I could have your arms tonight… But half the world and the broken… Lie between you and me. The autumn rain reverberates in th… Beating all night against the barr…
I sang my songs for the rest, For you I am still; The tree of my song is bare On its shining hill. For you came like a lordly wind,
Francesca’s life that was a limpid… Agleam against the shimmer of a sw… Which falling, quenched the flame… To free the house of Rimino from… Francesca’s death that blazed alof…
I heard a cry in the night, A thousand miles it came, Sharp as a flash of light, My name, my name! It was your voice I heard,
Oh day of fire and sun, Pure as a naked flame, Blue sea, blue sky and dun Sands where he spoke my name; Laughter and hearts so high
The kings they came from out the s… All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysopras… And gifts of precious wine. The shepherds came from out the no…
The dreams of my heart and my mind… Nothing stays with me long, But I have had from a child The deep solace of song; If that should ever leave me,
SUN-SWEPT beaches with a light… From the immense blue circle of th… And the soft thunder where long wa… These were the same for Sappho as… Two thousand years’much has gone…
I cannot die, who drank delight From the cup of the crescent moon, And hungrily as men eat bread, Loved the scented nights of June. The rest may die—but is there not