#Americans #PulitzerPrize #1936 #AFurtherRange
Something there is that doesn’t lo… That sends the frozen—ground—swell… And spills the upper boulders in t… And makes gaps even two can pass a… The work of hunters is another thi…
When the spent sun throws up its r… And goes down burning into the gul… No voice in nature is heard to cry… At what has happened. Birds, at l… It is the change to darkness in th…
As I have known them passionate a… The gold for which they leave the… Of lyric is a golden light divine, Never the gold of darkness from a… The spirit plays us strange religi…
Will the blight end the chestnut? The farmers rather guess not. It keeps smouldering at the roots And sending up new shoots Till another parasite
I’ve known ere now an interfering… Of alder catch my lifted axe behin… But that was in the woods, to hold… From striking at another alder’s r… And that was, as I say, an alder…
It went many years, But at last came a knock, And I thought of the door With no lock to lock. I blew out the light,
Some things are never clear. But the weather is clear tonight, Thanks to a clearing rain. The mountains are brought up near, The stars are brought out bright.
‘Fred, where is north?’ ‘North? North is there, my love. The brook runs west.’ ‘West—running Brook then call it.… (West—Running Brook men call it t…
He is said to have been the last… In Action. And the Miller is sai… If you like to call such a sound a… But he gave no one else a laugher’… For he turned suddenly grave as if…
I let myself in at the kitchen doo… ‘It’s you,' she said. 'I can’t ge… Not answering your knock. I can n… Let people in than I can keep the… I’m getting too old for my size,…
My long two-pointed ladder’s stick… Toward heaven still, And there’s a barrel that I didn’… Beside it, and there may be two or… Apples I didn’t pick upon some bo…
The play seems out for an almost i… Don’t mind a little thing like the… The only I worry about is the sun… We’ll be all right if nothing goes…
He thought he kept the universe al… For all the voice in answer he cou… Was but the mocking echo of his ow… From some tree-hidden cliff across… Some morning from the boulder-brok…
Did you stay up last night (the M… To see the star shower known as L… That once a year by hand or appara… Is so mysteriously pelted at us? It is but fiery puffs of dust and…
Thine emulous fond flowers are dea… And the daft sun—assaulter, he That frighted thee so oft, is fled… Save only me (Nor is it sad to thee!)
