Blizzard Notes By Carl Sandburg

Blizzard Notes I DON’T blame the kettle drums-they are hungry. And the snare drums-I know what they want-they are empty too. And the harring booming…

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A Teamster’s Farewell By Carl Sandburg

A Teamster’s Farewell Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the clash of wheels and locking hubs, The sun coming…

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Upstairs By Carl Sandburg

Upstairs I too have a garret of old playthings. I have tin soldiers with broken arms upstairs. I have a wagon and the wheels gone…

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The Walking Man Of Rodin By Carl Sandburg

The Walking Man Of Rodin Legs hold a torso away from the earth. And a regular high poem of legs is here. Powers of bone…

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Stripes By Carl Sandburg

Stripes POLICEMAN in front of a bank 3 A.M. … lonely. Policeman State and Madison … high noon … mobs … cars … parcels ……

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Rusty Crimson By Carl Sandburg

Rusty Crimson (Chirstmas Day, 1917)THE FIVE O’CLOCK prairie sunset is a strong man going to sleep after a long day in a cornfield. The red…

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Pick Offs By Carl Sandburg

Pick Offs THE TELESCOPE picks off star dust on the clean steel sky and sends it to me. The telephone picks off my voice and…

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New Feet By Carl Sandburg

New Feet EMPTY battlefields keep their phantoms. Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flings a purple Into the summer’s southwest…

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Localities By Carl Sandburg

Localities Wagon wheel gap is a place I never saw And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of Cripple Creek. Red-shirted miners picking in the…

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Jack By Carl Sandburg

Jack 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…

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Hats By Carl Sandburg

Hats HATS, where do you belong? what is under you? On the rim of a skyscraper’s forehead I looked down and saw: hats: fifty thousand…

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Flanders By Carl Sandburg

Flanders Flanders, the name of a place, a country of people, Spells itself with letters, is written in books. “Where is Flanders?” was asked one…

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Crucible By Carl Sandburg

Crucible Hot gold runs a winding stream on the inside of a green bowl. Yellow trickles in a fan figure, scatters a line of skirmishes,…

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Buffalo Bill By Carl Sandburg

Buffalo Bill BOY heart of Johnny Jones-aching to-day? Aching, and Buffalo Bill in town? Buffalo Bill and ponies, cowboys, Indians? Some of us know All…

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Aztec By Carl Sandburg

Aztec You came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said,…

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Work Gangs By Carl Sandburg

Work Gangs Box cars run by a mile long. And I wonder what they say to each other When they stop a mile long on…

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To Certain Journeymen By Carl Sandburg

To Certain Journeymen Undertakers, hearse drivers, grave diggers, I speak to you as one not afraid of your business. You handle dust going to a…

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The Noon Hour By Carl Sandburg

The Noon Hour She sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for…

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Smoke Rose Gold By Carl Sandburg

Smoke Rose Gold THE DOME of the capitol looks to the Potomac river. Out of haze over the sunset, Out of a smoke rose gold:…

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Purple Martins By Carl Sandburg

Purple Martins IF we were such and so, the same as these, maybe we too would be slingers and sliders, tumbling half over in the…

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Pals By Carl Sandburg

Pals Take a hold now On the silver handles here, Six silver handles, One for each of his old pals. Take hold And lift him…

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Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache By Carl Sandburg

Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache THIS Mohammedan colonel from the Caucasus yells with his voice and wigwags with his arms. The interpreter translates, ‘I was a friend…

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Laughing Corn By Carl Sandburg

Laughing Corn There was a high majestic fooling Day before yesterday in the yellow corn. And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn There will…

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Humming Bird Woman By Carl Sandburg

Humming Bird Woman WHY should I be wondering How you would look in black velvet and yellow? in orange and green? I who cannot remember…

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Grieg Being Dead By Carl Sandburg

Grieg Being Dead GRIEG being dead we may speak of him and his art. Grieg being dead we can talk about whether he was any…

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Evening Waterfall By Carl Sandburg

Evening Waterfall What is the name you called me?– And why did you go so soon? The crows lift their caws on the wind, And…

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Clark Street Bridge By Carl Sandburg

Clark Street Bridge Dust of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . . ….

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Boy And Father By Carl Sandburg

Boy And Father THE BOY Alexander understands his father to be a famous lawyer. The leather law books of Alexander’s father fill a room like…

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And They Obey By Carl Sandburg

And They Obey Smash down the cities. Knock the walls to pieces. Break the factories and cathedrals, warehouses and homes Into loose piles of stone…

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Whirls By Carl Sandburg

Whirls NEITHER rose leaves gathered in a jar-respectably in Boston-these-nor drops of Christ blood for a chalice-decently in Philadelphia or Baltimore. Cinders-these-hissing in a marl…

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Three Pieces On The Smoke Of Autumn By Carl Sandburg

Three Pieces On The Smoke Of Autumn SMOKE of autumn is on it all. The streamers loosen and travel. The red west is stopped with…

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The Four Brothers By Carl Sandburg

The Four Brothers MAKE war songs out of these; Make chants that repeat and weave. Make rhythms up to the ragtime chatter of the machine…

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Shirt By Carl Sandburg

Shirt My shirt is a token and symbol, more than a cover for sun and rain, my shirt is a signal, and a teller of…

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Portrait By Carl Sandburg

Portrait (For S. A.)TO write one book in five years or five books in one year, to be the painter and the thing painted, ……

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Old Timers By Carl Sandburg

Old Timers I am an ancient reluctant conscript. On the soup wagons of Xerxes I was a cleaner of pans. On the march of Miltiades’…

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Manual System By Carl Sandburg

Manual System Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears And sits all day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in. Flashes and flashes–voies and…

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Jungheimer’s By Carl Sandburg

Jungheimer’s In western fields of corn and northern timber lands, They talk about me, a saloon with a soul, The soft red lights, the long…

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Honky Tonk In Cleveland, Ohio By Carl Sandburg

Honky Tonk In Cleveland, Ohio It’s a jazz affair, drum crashes and coronet razzes. The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts. The banjo…

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Galoots By Carl Sandburg

Galoots GALOOTS, you hairy, hankering, Snousle on the bones you eat, chew at the gristle and lick the last of it. Grab off the bones…

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Dogheads By Carl Sandburg

Dogheads AMONG the grassroots In the moonlight, who comes circling, red tongues and high noses? Is one of ’em Buck and one of ’em White…

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Chicago Poet By Carl Sandburg

Chicago Poet I saluted a nobody. I saw him in a looking-glass. He smiled–so did I. He crumpled the skin on his forehead, frowning–so did…

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Between Two Hills By Carl Sandburg

Between Two Hills Between two hills The old town stands. The houses loom And the roofs and trees And the dusk and the dark, The…

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A Tall Man By Carl Sandburg

A Tall Man The mouth of this man is a gaunt strong mouth. The head of this man is a gaunt strong head. The jaws…

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Under By Carl Sandburg

Under I I am the undertow Washing tides of power Battering the pillars Under your things of high law. II I am a sleepless Slowfaring…

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The South Wind Say So By Carl Sandburg

The South Wind Say So IF the oriole calls like last year when the south wind sings in the oats, if the leaves climb and…

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Style By Carl Sandburg

Style Style–go ahead talking about style. You can tell where a man gets his style just as you can tell where Pavlowa got her legs…

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Repetitions By Carl Sandburg

Repetitions THEY are crying salt tears Over the beautiful beloved body Of Inez Milholland, Because they are glad she lived, Because she loved open-armed, Throwing…

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Personality By Carl Sandburg

Personality Musings of a Police Reporter in the Identification Bureau You have loved forty women, but you have only one thumb. You have led a…

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New Farm Tractor By Carl Sandburg

New Farm Tractor The rear axles hold the kick of twenty Missouri jackasses. It is in the records of the patent office and the ads…

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Loin Cloth By Carl Sandburg

Loin Cloth BODY of Jesus taken down from the cross Carved in ivory by a lover of Christ, It is a child’s handful you are…

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Iron By Carl Sandburg

Iron Guns, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war ships In the name of the war god. Straight, shining, polished guns, Clambered over with jackies…

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Hate By Carl Sandburg

Hate ONE man killed another. The saying between them had been ‘I’d give you the shirt off my back.’ The killer wept over the dead….

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Fire-Logs By Carl Sandburg

Fire-Logs Nancy Hanks dreams by the fire; Dreams, and the logs sputter, And the yellow tongues climb. Red lines lick their way in flickers. Oh,…

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Cripple By Carl Sandburg

Cripple Once when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing…

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Buckwheat By Carl Sandburg

Buckwheat THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunsets Under the valley roads of her eyes. There was a late autumn cricket,…

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Aztec Mask By Carl Sandburg

Aztec Mask I wanted a man’s face looking into the jaws and throat of life With something proud on his face, so proud no smash…

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Woman With A Past By Carl Sandburg

Woman With A Past There was a woman tore off a red velvet gown And slashed the white skin of her right shoulder And a…

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To A Contemporary Bunkshooter By Carl Sandburg

To A Contemporary Bunkshooter You come along. . . tearing your shirt. . . yelling about Jesus. Where do you get that stuff? What do…

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The Mist By Carl Sandburg

The Mist I am the mist, the impalpable mist, Back of the thing you seek. My arms are long, Long as the reach of time…

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Smoke And Steel By Carl Sandburg

Smoke And Steel SMOKE of the fields in spring is one, Smoke of the leaves in autumn another. Smoke of a steel-mill roof or a…

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