Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Autumn Movement


I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper
   sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
   new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
   and the old things go, not one lasts.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

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Comments about this poem (Autumn Movement by Carl Sandburg )

  • Rookie Claire Avaline (8/15/2008 10:47:00 AM)

    Dear Carl,

    you amaze stun gratify and glorify. I thank God every day for your writing.
    Did you want - seek - immortality?

    Because you, along with the Beats, are most deserving. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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