#1923 #AmericanWriters #NewHampshire #PulitzerPrize
As gay for you to take your father… As take his gun—rod—to go hunting—… You nick my spruce until its fiber… It gives up standing straight and… You link an arm in its arm and you…
Poetry is when an emotion has foun…
There’s a patch of old snow in a c… That I should have guessed Was a blow—away paper the rain Had brought to rest. It is speckled with grime as if
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…
Let chaos storm! Let cloud shapes swarm! I wait for form.
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…
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…
But Islands of the Blessèd, bless… I never came upon a blessèd one.
This saying good-bye on the edge o… And cold to an orchard so young in… Reminds me of all that can happen… An orchard away at the end of the… All winter, cut off by a hill from…
Come with rain, O loud Southweste… Bring the singer, bring the nester… Give the buried flower a dream; Make the settled snow—bank steam; Find the brown beneath the white;
He saw her from the bottom of the… Before she saw him. She was star… Looking back over her shoulder at… She took a doubtful step and then… To raise herself and look again.…
She is as in a field a silken tent At midday when the sunny summer br… Has dried the dew and all its rope… So that in guys it gently sways at… And its supporting central cedar p…
Blood has been harder to dam back… Just when we think we have it impo… Behind new barrier walls (and let… It breaks away in some new kind of… We choose to say it is let loose b…
When I was young my teachers were… I gave up fire for form till I wa… I suffered like a metal being cast… I went to school to age to learn t… Now when I am old my teachers are…
A plow, they say, to plow the snow… They cannot mean to plant it, no— Unless in bitterness to mock At having cultivated rock.