#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
I, being born a woman and distress… By all the needs and notions of my… Am urged by your propinquity to fi… Your person fair, and feel a certa… To bear your body’s weight upon my…
Not even my pride shall suffer muc… Not even my pride at all, maybe, If this ill-timed, intemperate clu… Be loosed by you and not by me, Will suffer; I have been so true
Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree. Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place
I dreamed I moved among the Elysi… In converse with sweet women long… And out of blossoms which that mea… I wove a garland for your living h… Danai, that was the vessel for a d…
Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud At dawn, a fortnight overdue, Jostling the doors, and tearing t… My bedroom to rejoin the cloud, I know—for I can hear the hiss
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain,— Dawn will find them still again; This has neither wax nor wane,
Let us abandon then our gardens an… And sit in the sitting-room Shall the larkspur blossom or the… Sour to the fruitful seed Is the cold earth under this cloud…
Once from a big, big building, When I was small, small, The queer folk in the windows Would smile at me and call. And in the hard wee gardens
Women have loved before as I love… At least, in lively chronicles of… Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mas… Much to their cost invaded—here an…
I shall go back again to the bleak… And build a little shanty on the s… In such a way that the extremest b… Of brittle seaweed shall escape my… But by a yard or two; and nevermor…
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly… Come and see my shining palace bui…
I looked in my heart while the wil… And what did I see I had not seen… Only a question less or a question… Nothing to match the flight of wil… Tiresome heart, forever living and…
XLI I, being born a woman and distress… By all the needs and notions of my… Am urged by your propinquity to fi… Your person fair, and feel a certa…
No rose that in a garden ever grew… In Homer’s or in Omar’s or in min… Though buried under centuries of f… Dead dust of roses, shut from sun… Forever, and forever lost from vie…
I know I am but summer to your he… And not the full four seasons of t… And you must welcome from another… Such noble moods as are not mine,… No gracious weight of golden fruit…