#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1942 #AWitnessTree
The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart
The mountain held the town as in a… I saw so much before I slept ther… I noticed that I missed stars in… Where its black body cut into the… Near me it seemed: I felt it like…
If heaven were to do again, And on the pasture bars, I leaned to line the figures in Between the dotted stars, I should be tempted to forget,
The Infinite’s being so wide Is the reason the Powers provide For inner defense my hide. For next defense outside. I make myself this time
We sit indoors and talk of the col… And every gust that gathers streng… Is a threat to the house. But the… We think of the tree. If it never… We’ll know, we say, that this was…
Never have I been glad or sad That there was such a thing as bad… There had to be, I understood, For there to have been any good. It was by having been contrasted
'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 plow, they say, to plow the snow… They cannot mean to plant it, no— Unless in bitterness to mock At having cultivated rock.
First under up and then again down… We watch a circus of revolving dog… No senator dares in to kick asunde… Lest both should bite him in the t…
No, I had set no prohibiting sign… And yes, my land was hardly fenced… Nevertheless the land was mine: I was being trespassed on and agai… Whoever the surly freedom took
Others taunt me with having knelt… Always wrong to the light, so neve… Deeper down in the well than where… Gives me back in a shining surface… Me myself in the summer heaven god…
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…
Inscription for a Garden Wall Winds blow the open grassy places… But where this old wall burns a su… They eddy over it too toppling wea… To blow the earth or anything self…
Builder, in building the little ho… In every way you may please yourse… But please please me in the kitche… Don’t build me a chimney upon a sh… However far you must go for bricks…
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
