#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
In the spring of the year, in the… I walked the road beside my dear. The trees were black where the bar… I see them yet, in the spring of t… He broke me a bough of the blossom…
I know I might have lived in such… As to have suffered only pain: Loving not man nor dog; Not money, even; feeling Toothache perhaps, but never more…
Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in a day or two. All the things we ever knew
All I could see from where I stoo… Was three long mountains and a woo… I turned and looked another way, And saw three islands in a bay. So with my eyes I traced the line
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad, And love me if you like. I shall not hear the door shut Nor the knocker strike. Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts…
Once more into my arid days like d… Like wind from an oasis, or the so… Of cold sweet water bubbling under… A treacherous messenger, the thoug… Comes to destroy me; once more I…
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind That blows across the sea. And I shall meet a fisherman Out of Capri, And he will say, seeing me,
My heart is what it was before, A house where people come and go; But it is winter with your love, The sashes are beset with snow. I light the lamp and lay the cloth…
God had called us, and we came; Our loved Earth to ashes left; Heaven was a neighbor’s house, Open to us, bereft. Gay the lights of Heaven showed,
This door you might not open, and… So enter now, and see for what sli… You are betrayed.... Here is no t… No cauldron, no clear crystal mirr… The sought-for truth, no heads of…
Doubt no more that Oberon— Never doubt that Pan Lived, and played a reed, and ran After nymphs in a dark forest, In the merry, credulous days,—
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
As to some lovely temple, tenantle… Long since, that once was sweet wi… Knowing well its altars ruined and… Grown up between the stones, yet f… Of grief hard driven, or great lon…
If I were to walk this way Hand in hand with Grief, I should mark that maple-spray Coming into leaf. I should note how the old burrs
Was it for this I uttered prayers… And sobbed and cursed and kicked t… That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight…
