Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

201. Near Keokuk 1/27/2014
202. My People 1/27/2014
203. Murmurings in a Field Hospital 1/3/2003
204. Muckers 1/3/2003
205. Moonset 1/27/2014
206. Monotone 1/3/2003
207. Monosyllabic 1/3/2003
208. Momus 1/3/2003
209. Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache 1/27/2014
210. Mist Forms 1/27/2014
211. Mill-Doors 1/3/2003
212. Memoranda 1/27/2014
213. Memoir Of A Proud Boy 1/27/2014
214. Medallion 1/3/2003
215. Maybe 1/3/2003
216. Masses 1/3/2003
217. Mask 1/3/2003
218. Mascots 1/27/2014
219. Margaret 1/3/2003
220. Manufactured Gods 1/27/2014

Silver Nails

A man was crucified. He came to the city a stranger,
was accused, and nailed to a cross. He lingered hanging.
Laughed at the crowd. "The nails are iron," he
said, "You are cheap. In my country when we crucify
we use silver nails. . ." So he went jeering. They
did not understand him at first. Later they talked about
him in changed voices in the saloons, bowling alleys, and
churches. It came over them every man is crucified
only once in his life and the law of humanity dictates

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