#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1936 #AFurtherRange
A governor it was proclaimed this… When all who would come seeking in… Ancestral memories might come toge… And those of the name Stark gathe… A rock-strewn town where farming h…
It was far in the sameness of the… I was running with joy on the Dem… Though I knew what I hunted was n… It was just as the light was begin… That I suddenly heard—all I neede…
He is that fallen lance that lies… That lies unlifted now, come dew,… But still lies pointed as it ploug… If we who sight along it round the… See nothing worthy to have been it…
There sandy seems the golden sky And golden seems the sandy plain. No habitation meets the eye Unless in the horizon rim, Some halfway up the limestone wall…
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
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:
I went to turn the grass once afte… Who mowed it in the dew before the… The dew was gone that made his bla… Before I came to view the levelle… I looked for him behind an isle of…
The three stood listening to a fre… Of wind that caught against the ho… Gulped snow, and then blew free ag… Dressed, but dishevelled from some… Meserve belittled in the great ski…
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…
When we locked up the house at nig… We always locked the flowers outsi… And cut them off from window light… The time I dreamed the door was t… And brushed with buttons upon slee…
The heart can think of no devotion Greater than being shore to ocean— Holding the curve of one position, Counting an endless repetition.
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…
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…
A scent of ripeness from over a wa… And come to leave the routine road And look for what had made me stal… There sure enough was an apple tre… That had eased itself of its summe…
It was long I lay Awake that night Wishing that night Would name the hour And tell me whether