#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize
There’s a patch of old snow in a c… That I should have guessed Was a blow—away paper the rain Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
That far-off day the leaves in fli… Were letting in the colder light. A season-ending wind there blew That as it did the forest strew I leaned on with a singing trust
I have been treading on leaves all… God knows all the color and form o… Perhaps I have put forth too much… I have safely trodden underfoot th… All summer long they were over hea…
I slumbered with your poems on my… Spread open as I dropped them hal… Like dove wings on a figure on a t… To see, if in a dream they brought… I might not have the chance I mis…
“You ought to have seen what I sa… To the village, through Mortenson… Blueberries as big as the end of y… Real sky-blue, and heavy, and read… In the cavernous pail of the first…
Come with rain, O loud Southweste… Bring the singer, bring the nester… Give the buried flower a dream; Make the settled snow—bank steam; Find the brown beneath the white;
Around bend after bend, It was blown woods and no end. I came to but one house I made but the one friend. At the one house a child was out
Something I saw or thought I saw In the desert at midnight in Utah… Looking out of my lower berth At moonlit sky and moonlit earth. The sky had here and there a star;
Oh, give us pleasure in the flower… And give us not to think so far aw… As the uncertain harvest; keep us… All simply in the springing of the… Oh, gives us pleasure in the orcha…
Four or five whippoorwills Have come down from their native l… To the open country edge To give us a piece of their bills. Two in June were a pair—
Her teacher’s certainty it must be… Made Maple first take notice of h… She asked her father and he told h… Maple is right.’ ‘But teacher told the school
Careless and still The hunter lurks With gun depressed, Facing alone The alder swamps
Grief may have thought it was grie… Care may have thought it was care. They were welcome to their belief, The overimportant pair. No, it took all the snows that clu…
The last step taken found your hef… Decidedly upon the left. One more would throw you on the ri… Another still—you see your plight. You call this thinking, but it’s w…
God made a beatous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden
