#1942 #AmericanWriters #AWitnessTree #PulitzerPrize
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…
Abstraction is an old story with the philosophers, but it has been like a new toy in the hands of the artists of our day. Why can’t we have any one quality of poetry we choose by itself...
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…
But Islands of the Blessèd, bless… I never came upon a blessèd one.
Where had I heard this wind befor… Change like this to a deeper roar? What would it take my standing the… Holding open a restive door, Looking down hill to a frothy shor…
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…
NOW that they’ve got it settled w… I’m going to tell them something t… They’ve got it settled wrong, and… Flattered I must be to have two t… To make a present of me to each ot…
(To hear us talk) The tree the tempest with a crash… Throws down in front of us is not… Our passage to our journey’s end f… But just to ask us who we think we…
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…
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…
Some of you will be glad I did wh… And the rest won’t want to punish… For finding a thing to do that tho… Yet wasn’t enjoined and wasn’t exp… To punish me over cruelly wouldn’t…
Grief may have thought it was grie… Care may have thought it was care. They were welcome to their belief, The overimportant pair. No, it took all the snows that clu…
A bird half wakened in the lunar n… Sang half way through its little i… Partly because it sang but once al… And that from no especial bush’s h… Partly because it sang ventriloqui…
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…
For every parcel I stoop down to… I lose some other off my arms and… And the whole pile is slipping, bo… Extremes too hard to comprehend at… Yet nothing I should care to leav…