#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1942 #AWitnessTree
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
The swinging mill bell changed its… To tolling like the count of fate, And though at that the tardy ran, One failed to make the closing gat… There was a law of God or man
Here’s first a gloveless hand warm… A perch and resting place ’twixt w… Bright-black-eyed silvery creature… The wings not folded in repose, bu… (Who would you be, I wonder, by t…
As I went out a Crow In a low voice said, 'Oh, I was looking for you. How do you do? I just came to tell you
My Sorrow, when she’s here with m… Thinks these dark days of autumn r… Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered t… She walks the sodden pasture lane.
She had no saying dark enough For the dark pine that kept Forever trying the window latch Of the room where they slept. The tireless but ineffectual hands
In a Vermont bedroom closet With a door of two broad boards And for back wall a crumbling old… (And that’s what their toes are to… I have a pair of shoes standing,
Nature’s first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf.
But outer Space, At least this far, For all the fuss Of the populace Stays more popular
Blood has been harder to dam back… Just when we think we have it impo… Behind new barrier walls (and let… It breaks away in some new kind of… We choose to say it is let loose b…
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…
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…
The shattered water made a misty d… Great waves looked over others com… And thought of doing something to… That water never did to land befor… The clouds were low and hairy in t…
I staid the night for shelter at a… Behind the mountain, with a mother… Two old-believers. They did all t… Mother. Folks think a witch who h… She could call up to pass a winter…
The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hil… The graveyard draws the living sti… But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say:
