#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1923 #NewHampshire
EVEN the bravest that are slain Shall not dissemble their surprise On waking to find valor reign, Even as on earth, in paradise; And where they sought without the…
Back out of all this now too much… Back in a time made simple by the… Of detail, burned, dissolved, and… Like graveyard marble sculpture in… There is a house that is no more a…
The sentencing goes blithely on it… And takes the playfully objected r… As surely as it takes the stroke a… In having its undeviable say.
But Islands of the Blessèd, bless… I never came upon a blessèd one.
Before man to blow to right The wind once blew itself untaught… And did its loudest day and night In any rough place where it caught… Man came to tell it what was wrong…
Such a fine pullet ought to go All coiffured to a winter show, And be exhibited, and win. The answer is this one has been— And come with all her honors home.
Was there even a cause too lost, Ever a cause that was lost too lon… Or that showed with the lapse of t… For the generous tears of youth an…
More than halfway up the pass Was a spring with a broken drinkin… And whether the farmer drank or no… His mare was sure to observe the s… By cramping the wheel on a water-b…
Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the hands of the artists of our day. Why can’t we have any one quality of poetry we choose by itself...
It is getting dark and time he dre… But the blizzard blinds him to any… The storm gets down his neck in an… That sucks his breath like a wicke… The snow blows on him and off him,…
A lantern light from deeper in the… Shone on a man and woman in the do… And threw their lurching shadows o… Near by, all dark in every glossy… A horse’s hoof pawed once the holl…
Let the downpour roil and toil! The worst it can do to me Is carry some garden soil A little nearer the sea. ’Tis the world-old way of the rain
They sent him back to her. The le… Saying... And she could have him.… She could be sure there was no hid… Under the formal writing, he was i… Living. They gave him back to her…
You were forever finding some new… So when I saw you down on hands a… In the meadow, busy with the new-c… Trying, I thought, to set it up o… I went to show you how to make it…
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