Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

81. Clean Hands 1/27/2014
82. Clinton South Of Polk 1/27/2014
83. Clocks 1/27/2014
84. Cool Tombs 1/3/2003
85. Corn Hut Talk 1/27/2014
86. Crabapple Blossoms 1/27/2014
87. Crapshooters 1/27/2014
88. Crimson 1/3/2003
89. Crimson Changes People 1/27/2014
90. Crimson Rambler 1/27/2014
91. Cripple 1/3/2003
92. Crucible 1/3/2003
93. Cumulatives 1/3/2003
94. Cups Of Coffee 1/27/2014
95. Curse Of A Rich Polish Peasant On His Sister Who Ran Away With A Wild Man 1/27/2014
96. Dan 1/27/2014
97. Dancer 1/27/2014
98. Death Snips Proud Men 1/1/2004
99. Do You Want Affidavits? 1/27/2014
100. Docks 1/3/2003
101. Dogheads 1/27/2014
102. Dream Girl 1/3/2003
103. Dreams In The Dusk 1/3/2003
104. Drumnotes 1/27/2014
105. Dunes 1/3/2003
106. Dust 1/3/2003
107. Dusty Doors 1/3/2003
108. Dynamiter 1/3/2003
109. Early Moon 1/27/2014
110. Elephants Are Different To Different People 1/27/2014
111. Eleventh Avenue Racket 4/2/2010
112. Evening Waterfall 1/3/2003
113. Excerp From The People, Yes 12/23/2014
114. Falltime 1/27/2014
115. Far Rockaway Night Till Morning 1/27/2014
116. Fellow Citizens 1/3/2003
117. Fight 1/3/2003
118. Films 1/27/2014
119. Finish 1/27/2014
120. Fire Dreams 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

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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