#AmericanWriters #PulitzerPrize #1936 #AFurtherRange
We make ourselves a place apart Behind light words that tease and… But oh, the agitated heart Till someone find us really out. ’Tis pity if the case require
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
When I spread out my hand here to… I catch no more than a ray To feel of between thumb and finge… No lasting effect of it lingers. There was one time and only the on…
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…
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-…
Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night come… But let there never be curtain dra… Between you and me. Vague dream-head lifted out of the…
The fisherman’s swapping a yarn fo… Under the hand of the village barb… And her in the angle of house and… His deep-sea dory has found a harb… At anchor she rides the sunny sod
The land was ours before we were t… She was our land more than a hundr… Before we were her people. She wa… In Massachusetts, in Virginia, But we were England’s, still colo…
One misty evening, one another’s g… We two were groping down a Malver… The last wet fields and dripping h… There came a moment of confusing l… Such as according to belief in Ro…
When I see birches bend to left a… Across the lines of straighter dar… I like to think some boy’s been sw… But swinging doesn’t bend them dow… As ice-storms do. Often you must…
A dented spider like a snow drop w… On a white Heal-all, holding up a… Like a white piece of lifeless sat… Saw ever curious eye so strange a… Portent in little, assorted death…
BROWN lived at such a lofty farm That everyone for miles could see His lantern when he did his chores In winter after half-past three. And many must have seen him make
I had withdrawn in forest, and my… Was swallowed up in leaves that bl… And to the forest edge you came on… (This was my dream) and looked and… But did not enter, though the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…
Here come the line-gang pioneering… They throw a forest down less cut… They plant dead trees for living,… They string together with a living… They string an instrument against…
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…
