Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

121. Fire Pages 1/3/2003
122. Fire-Logs 1/27/2014
123. Fish Crier 1/3/2003
124. Five Cent Balloons 1/27/2014
125. Five Towns On The B. & O. 1/27/2014
126. Flanders 1/3/2003
127. Flash Crimson 1/27/2014
128. Flat Lands 1/27/2014
129. Flux 1/3/2003
130. Flying Fish 1/27/2014
131. Fog 1/3/2003
132. Fog Portrait 4/2/2010
133. Follies 1/3/2003
134. For You 1/27/2014
135. Four Preludes On Playthings Of The Wind 1/27/2014
136. From The Shore 1/3/2003
137. Galoots 1/27/2014
138. Garden Wireless 1/27/2014
139. Gargoyle 1/27/2014
140. Girl In A Cage 1/27/2014
141. Glimmer 1/27/2014
142. Goldwing Moth 1/27/2014
143. Gone 1/3/2003
144. Good Night 1/3/2003
145. Government 1/3/2003
146. Graceland 1/3/2003
147. Grass 1/3/2003
148. Graves 1/3/2003
149. Grieg Being Dead 1/27/2014
150. Gypsy 1/3/2003
151. Half Moon In A High Wind 1/27/2014
152. Halsted Street Car 1/3/2003
153. Handfuls 1/27/2014
154. Happiness 1/3/2003
155. Harrison Street Court 1/3/2003
156. Harvest Sunset 1/27/2014
157. Hate 1/27/2014
158. Hats 1/27/2014
159. Haunts 1/3/2003
160. Have Me 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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