#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
THE sun was gone, and the moon wa… Over the blue Connecticut hills; The west was rosy, the east was fl… And over my head the swallows rush… This way and that, with changeful…
I turned the key and opened wide t… To enter my deserted room again, Where thro’ the long hot months th… Was it not lonely when across the… No step was heard, no sudden song…
There is no lord within my heart, Left silent as an empty shrine Where rose and myrtle intertwine, Within a place apart. No god is there of carven stone
I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south. For though I know he loves me,
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…
IF I could keep my innermost Me Fearless, aloof and free Of the least breath of love or hat… And not disconsolate At the sick load of sorrow laid on…
When I am dead and over me bright… Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me bro… I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees…
If I should see your eyes again, I know how far their look would go… Back to a morning in the park With sapphire shadows on the snow. Or back to oak trees in the spring
I SHOULD be glad of loneliness And hours that go on broken wings, A thirsty body, a tired heart And the unchanging ache of things, If I could make a single song
Before a lonely shrine Of foam-born Aphrodite, Ungarlanded of vine, Undyed by dripping wine, I brought green bay to twine,
The moon is a charring ember Dying into the dark; Off in the crouching mountains Coyotes bark. The stars are heavy in heaven,
When Love was born I think he lay Right warm on Venus’ breast, And whiles he smiled and whiles wo… And whiles would take his rest. But always, folded out of sight,
The faery forest glimmered Beneath an ivory moon, The silver grasses shimmered Against a faery tune. Beneath the silken silence
The winds have grown articulate in… And voiced again the wail of ancie… That smote upon the winds of long… The cries of Trojan women as they… The quivering moan of pale Androm…
Out of the delicate dream of the d… Veiled in the violet folds of the… Softly the dream grows awakening—s… Splashes of crimson, the gay bouga… High in the infinite blue of its h…
