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 …

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 …

Stripes By Carl Sandburg

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

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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: …

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?” …

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 …

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 …

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. …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …

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 …