#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Women #XXCentury
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…
Night is my sister, and how deep i… How drowned in love and weedily wa… There to be fretted by the drag an… At the tide’s edge, I lie—these t… Whose arm alone between me and the…
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…
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…
There was a road ran past our hous… Too lovely to explore. I asked my mother once—she said That if you followed where it led It brought you to the milk-man’s d…
If I grow bitterly, Like a gnarled and stunted tree, Bearing harshly of my youth Puckered fruit that sears the mout… If I make of my drawn boughs
When we are old and these rejoicin… Are frosty channels to a muted str… And out of all our burning their r… No feeblest spark to fire us, even… This be our solace: that it was no…
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…
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…
Not in this chamber only at my bir… When the long hours of that myster… Were over, and the morning was in… I cried, but in strange places, st… I have not seen, through alien gri…
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…
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly… Come and see my shining palace bui…
If I should learn, in some quite… That you were gone, not to return… Read from the back-page of a paper… Held by a neighbor in a subway tra… How at the corner of this avenue
As I sat down by Saddle Stream To bathe my dusty feet there, A boy was standing on the bridge Any girl would meet there. As I went over Woody Knob
Cut if you will, with Sleep’s dul… Each day to half its length, my fr… The years that Time take off my l… He’ll take from off the other end!
