#Americans #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury #1923 #NewHampshire
I had withdrawn in forest, and my… Was swallowed up in leaves that bl… And to the forest edge you came on… (This was my dream) and looked and… But did not enter, though the wish…
Lancaster bore him—such a little t… Such a great man. It doesn’t see… Of late years, though he keeps the… And sends the children down there… To run wild in the summer—a little…
The rain to the wind said, ‘You push and I’ll pelt.’ They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged– though not dead.
It snowed in spring on earth so dr… The flakes could find no landing p… Hordes spent themselves to make it… And still they failed of any lasti… They made no white impression on t…
'You know Orion always comes up s… Throwing a leg up over our fence o… And rising on his hands, he looks… Busy outdoors by lantern-light wit… I should have done by daylight, an…
A voice said, Look me in the star… And tell me truly, men of earth, If all the soul-and-body scars Were not too much to pay for birth…
The old dog barks backwards withou… I can remember when he was a pup.
Where had I heard this wind befor… Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing the… Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shor…
Sea waves are green and wet, But up from where they die, Rise others vaster yet, And those are brown and dry. They are the sea made land
Now close the windows and hush all… If the trees must, let them silent… No bird is singing in them now, an… Be it my loss. It will be long ere the marshes re…
Old Davis owned a solid mica moun… In Dalton that would someday make… There’d been some Boston people o… And experts said that deep down in… The mica sheets were big as plate-…
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;
I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place?
A saturated meadow, Sun—shaped and jewel—small, A circle scarcely wider Than the trees around were tall; Where winds were quite excluded,
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…