Carl Sandburg Poems

Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary


Good-by now to the streets and the clash of wheels and
...

Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
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Hope is a tattered flag and a dream of time.
Hope is a heartspun word, the rainbow, the shadblow in white
The evening star inviolable over the coal mines,
The shimmer of northern lights across a bitter winter night,
...

The child's wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
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I saluted a nobody.
I saw him in a looking-glass.
He smiled--so did I.
He crumpled the skin on his forehead, frowning--so did I.
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Guns,
Long, steel guns,
Pointed from the war ships
In the name of the war god.
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Everybody loved Chick Lorimer in our town.
Far off
Everybody loved her.
So we all love a wild girl keeping a hold
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Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
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The sea is never still.
It pounds on the shore
Restless as a young heart,
Hunting.
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Night from a railroad car window
Is a great, dark, soft thing
...