#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile, like flowing fire betwe… Where Ramses stares forth serene And ammon’s heavy temple stands. I saw the rocks where long ago,
You go a long and lovely journey, For all the stars, like burning de… Are luminous and luring footprints Of souls adventurous as you. Oh, if you lived on earth elated,
Impassioned singer of the happy ti… When all the world was waking into… And dew still glistened on the tan… And lingered on the branches of th… Oh peerless singer of the golden r…
Your mind and mine are such great… Have freed themselves from cautiou… And on wild clouds of thought, nak… They ride above us in extreme deli… We see them, we look up with a lon…
I have come the selfsame path To the selfsame door, Years have left the roses there Burning as before While I watch them in the wind
AT six o’clock of an autumn dusk With the sky in the west a rusty r… The bells of the mission down in t… Cry out that the day is dead. The first star pricks as sharp as…
He said: “In the winter dusk When the pavements were gleaming w… I walked thru a dingy street Hurried, harassed,
I MADE you many and many a song, Yet never one told all you are’ It was as though a net of words Were flung to catch a star; It was as though I curved my hand
I KNOW the stars by their names, Aldebaran, Altair, And I know the path they take Up heaven’s broad blue stair. I know the secrets of men
Heaven-invading hills are drowned In wide moving waves of mist, Phlox before my door are wound In dripping wreaths of amethyst. Ten feet away the solid earth
Lo, I am happy, for my eyes have… Joy glowing here before me, face t… His wings were arched above me for… I kissed his lips, no bitter came… The air is vibrant where his feet…
After a year I came again to the… The tireless lights and the reverb… The angry thunder of trains that b… The hunted, hurrying people were s… But oh, another man beside me and…
Like barley bending In low fields by the sea, Singing in hard wind Ceaselessly; Like barley bending
Like some rare queen of old romanc… Who loved the gleam of helm and la… Is she. A harper of King Arthur’s days Should praise her in a hundred lay…
“She can’t be unhappy,” you said, “The smiles are like stars in her… And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies.” “Is she unhappy?” you said—