Carl Sandburg Poems

I know a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with a voice like a north wind blowing over corn stubble in January.
...

The sea-wash never ends.
The sea-wash repeats, repeats.
Only old songs? Is that all the sea knows?
Only the old strong songs?
...

I too have a garret of old playthings.
I have tin soldiers with broken arms upstairs.
I have a wagon and the wheels gone upstairs.
I have guns and a drum, a jumping-jack and a magic lantern.
...

I drank musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with
the millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter
one night
And his face had the shining light of an old-time Quaker,
...

There was a high majestic fooling
Day before yesterday in the yellow corn.

And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn
...

On up the sea slant,
On up the horizon,
The ship limps.
...

Over the dead line we have called to you
To come across with a word to us,
Some beaten whisper of what happens
Where you are over the dead line
...

After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
...

Flanders, the name of a place, a country of people,
Spells itself with letters, is written in books.

"Where is Flanders?" was asked one time,
...

The monotone of the rain is beautiful,
And the sudden rise and slow relapse
Of the long multitudinous rain.
...