Carl Sandburg Poems

  • 401.  
    Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note
    quivered to the air.(A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect
  • 402.  
    Jack was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun.
    He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day, and his hands were tougher than sole leather.
  • 403.  
    Women of night life amid the lights
    Where the line of your full, round throatsMatches in gleam the glint of your eyes
  • 404.  
    Long, steel guns,Pointed from the war ships
  • 405.  
    To the Williamson Brothers

  • 406.  
    Remembrance for a great man is this.
    The newsies are pitching pennies.And on the copper disk is the man's face.
  • 407.  
    I know an ice handler who wears a flannel shirt with
    pearl buttons the size of a dollar,And he lugs a hundred-pound hunk into a saloon ice-
  • 408.  
    I sang to you and the moon
    But only the moon remembers. I sang
  • 409.  
    I am the people-the mob-the crowd-the mass.
    Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
  • 410.  
    Dragoons, I tell you the white hydrangeas
    turn rust and go soon.Already mid September a line of brown runs
  • 411.  
    Have me in the blue and the sun.
    Have me on the open sea and the mountains.
  • 412.  
    I heard a woman's lips
    Speaking to a companionSay these words:
  • 413.  
    I Asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
    me what is happiness.And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
  • 414.  
    Come you, cartoonists,
    Hang on a strap with me here At seven o'clock in the morning
  • 415.  
    I asked a gypsy pal
    To imitate an old imageAnd speak old wisdom.
  • 416.  
    I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
    One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.One year and another he walked the streets,
  • 417.  
    Tomb of a millionaire,
    A multi-millionaire, ladies and gentlemen, Place of the dead where they spend every year
  • 418.  
    The Government-I heard about the Government and
    I went out to find it. I said I would look closely at it when I saw it.
  • 419.  
    Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town.
    Far off Everybody loved her.
  • 420.  
    A goldwing moth is between the scissors and the ink bottle
    on the desk.
  • 421.  
    A lone gray bird,
    Dim-dipping, far-flying,Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
  • 422.  
    The blossoms of lilac, And shattered,
  • 423.  
    The fog comes
    on little cat feet.
  • 424.  
    Sand of the sea runs red
    Where the sunset reaches and quivers.Sand of the sea runs yellow
  • 425.  
    I Know a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with a
    voice like a north wind blowing over corn stubble in January.
  • 426.  
    Red drips from my chin where I have been eating.
    Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.
  • 427.  
    I drank musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with
    the millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter one night
  • 428.  
    I sat with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon
    eating steak and onions.And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children
  • 429.  
    What do we see here in the sand dunes of the white
    moon alone with our thoughts, Bill,Alone with our dreams, Bill, soft as the women tying
  • 430.  
    Dreams in the dusk,
    Only dreams closing the dayAnd with the day's close going back
  • 431.  
    You will come one day in a waver of love,
    Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,The tan of the sun will be on your skin,
  • 432.  
    Strolling along
    By the teeming docks,I watch the ships put out.
  • 433.  
    Storms have beaten on this point of land
    And ships gone to wreck here and the passers-by remember it
  • 434.  
    Once when I saw a cripple
    Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague,Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air,
  • 435.  
    Crimson is the slow smolder of the cigar end I hold,
    Gray is the ash that stiffens and covers all silent the fire.(A great man I know is dead and while he lies in his
  • 436.  
    Dust of the feet
    And dust of the wheels,Wagons and people going,
  • 437.  
    The single clenched fist lifted and ready,
    Or the open asking hand held out and waiting. Choose:
  • 438.  
    They offer you many things,
    I a few.Moonlight on the play of fountains at night
  • 439.  
    The dago shovelman sits by the railroad track
    Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna. A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
  • 440.  
    The child's wonder
    At the old moonComes back nightly.
  • 441.  
    The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
    And asks questions of the old men, questionsFound under running water for all children
  • 442.  
    Hog Butcher for the World,
    Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
  • 443.  
    There's Chamfort. He's a sample.
    Locked himself in his library with a gun,Shot off his nose and shot out his right eye.
  • 444.  
    I have been watching the war map slammed up for
    advertising in front of the newspaper office.Buttons-red and yellow buttons-blue and black buttons-
  • 445.  

  • 446.  
    I shall never forget you, Broadway
    Your golden and calling lights.
  • 447.  
    I thought of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer
    and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store.
  • 448.  
    Sling me under the sea.
    Pack me down in the salt and wet.No farmer's plow shall touch my bones.
  • 449.  
    I waited today for a freight train to pass.
    Cattle cars with steers butting their horns against the bars, went by.
  • 450.  
    Why shall I keep the old name?
    What is a name anywhere anyway?A name is a cheap thing all fathers and mothers leave
Total 464 poems written by Carl Sandburg

Poem of the day

Dusk In War Time
 by Sara Teasdale

A half-hour more and you will lean
To gather me close in the old sweet way-
But oh, to the woman over the sea
Who will come at the close of day?

A half-hour more and I will hear
The key in the latch and the strong, quick tread-
But oh, the woman over the sea

Read complete poem

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