#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
Time cannot break the bird’s wing… Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you,
I had a little Sorrow, Born of a little Sin, I found a room all damp with gloom And shut us all within; And, “Little Sorrow, weep,” said…
So, art thou feahered, art thou fl… Thou naked thing?—and canst alone Upon the unsolid summer air Sustain thyself, and prosper there… Shall no more with anxious note
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…
Oh, my belovèd, have you thought… How in the years to come unscrupul… More cruel than Death, will tear… And make you old, and leave me in… How you and I, who scale together…
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…
Childhood is not from birth to a c… The child is grown, and puts away… Childhood is the kingdom where nob… Nobody that matters, that is. Dis… Die, whom one never has seen or ha…
I am not resigned to the shutting… So it is, and so it will be, for s… Into the darkness they go, the wis… With lilies and with laurel they g… Lovers and thinkers, into the eart…
Oh, my beloved, have you thought o… How in the years to come unscrupul… More cruel than Death, will tear… And make you old, and leave me in… How you and I, who scale together…
For the sake of some things That be now no more I will strew rushes On my chamber-floor, I will plant bergamot
Minstrel, what have you to do With this man that, after you, Sharing not your happy fate, Sat as England’s Laureate? Vainly, in these iron days,
We talk of taxes, and I call you… Well, such you are,—but well enoug… How thick about us root, how rankl… Those subtle weeds no man has need… That flourish through neglect, and…
Heap not on this mound Roses that she loved so well: Why bewilder her with roses, That she cannot see or smell? She is happy where she lies
Let them bury your big eyes In the secret earth securely, Your thin fingers, and your fair, Soft, indefinite-colored hair,— All of these in some way, surely,
I think I will learn some beautif… Purposes, work hard at that. I think I will learn the Latin na… America but wherever they sing. (Shun meditation, though; invite t…