Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

361. Subway 1/13/2003
362. Summer Stars 1/3/2003
363. Sunset From Omaha Hotel Window 1/3/2003
364. Swirl 1/27/2014
365. Tangibles 1/27/2014
366. Tawny 1/27/2014
367. Telegram 1/27/2014
368. Testament 1/27/2014
369. Testimony Regarding A Ghost 1/27/2014
370. The Answer 1/3/2003
371. The Four Brothers 1/27/2014
372. The Great Hunt 1/3/2003
373. The Hammer 1/21/2014
374. The Hangman At Home 1/3/2003
375. The Harbor 1/3/2003
376. The Has-Been 1/3/2003
377. The Junk Man 1/3/2003
378. The Lawyers Know Too Much 1/27/2014
379. The Liars 1/27/2014
380. The Long Shadow of Lincoln: A Litany 6/19/2015
381. The Mayor Of Gary 1/3/2003
382. The Mist 1/3/2003
383. The Noon Hour 1/3/2003
384. The People, Yes 1/27/2014
385. The Plowboy 1/27/2014
386. The Red Son 1/13/2003
387. The Right To Grief 1/13/2003
388. The Road And The End 1/3/2003
389. The Sea Hold 1/10/2015
390. The Shovel Man 1/13/2003
391. The Sins Of Kalamazoo 1/27/2014
392. The Skyscraper Loves Night 1/27/2014
393. The South Wind Say So 1/27/2014
394. The Walking Man Of Rodin 1/13/2003
395. The Wind Sings Welcome In Early Spring 1/27/2014
396. The Windy City [sections 1 and 6] 2/20/2016
397. The Year 1/3/2003
398. Theme In Yellow 1/3/2003
399. They All Want To Play Hamlet 1/3/2003
400. They Ask Each Other Where They Came From 1/27/2014
Best Poem of Carl Sandburg

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Read the full of Fog

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 the day's pay.

Now the noon hour has come,
And she leans with her bare arms
On the window-sill over the river,

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