Treasure Island

Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Haze


KEEP a red heart of memories
Under the great gray rain sheds of the sky,
Under the open sun and the yellow gloaming embers.
Remember all paydays of lilacs and songbirds;
All starlights of cool memories on storm paths.

Out of this prairie rise the faces of dead men.
They speak to me. I can not tell you what they say.

Other faces rise on the prairie.
They are the unborn. The future.

Yesterday and to-morrow cross and mix on the skyline
The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets. One waits.

In the yellow dust of sunsets, in the meadows of vermilion eight o'clock June nights ... the dead men and the unborn children speak to me ... I can not tell you what they say ... you listen and you know.

I don't care who you are, man:
I know a woman is looking for you
and her soul is a corn-tassel kissing a south-west wind.
(The farm-boy whose face is the color of brick-dust, is calling the cows; he will form the letter X with crossed streams of milk from the teats; he will beat a tattoo on the bottom of a tin pail with X's of milk.)

I don't care who you are, man:
I know sons and daughters looking for you
And they are gray dust working toward star paths
And you see them from a garret window when you laugh
At your luck and murmur, 'I don't care.'

I don't care who you are, woman:
I know a man is looking for you
And his soul is a south-west wind kissing a corn-tassel.

(The kitchen girl on the farm is throwing oats to the chickens and the buff of their feathers says hello to the sunset's late maroon.)

I don't care who you are, woman:
I know sons and daughters looking for you
And they are next year's wheat or the year after hidden in the dark and loam.

My love is a yellow hammer spinning circles in Ohio, Indiana. My love is a redbird shooting flights in straight lines in Kentucky and Tennessee. My love is an early robin flaming an ember of copper on her shoulders in March and April. My love is a graybird living in the eaves of a Michigan house all winter. Why is my love always a crying thing of wings?

On the Indiana dunes, in the Mississippi marshes, I have asked: Is it only a fishbone on the beach?
Is it only a dog's jaw or a horse's skull whitening in the sun? Is the red heart of man only ashes? Is the flame of it all a white light switched off and the power house wires cut?

Why do the prairie roses answer every summer? Why do the changing repeating rains come back out of the salt sea wind-blown? Why do the stars keep their tracks? Why do the cradles of the sky rock new babies?

Submitted: Monday, January 27, 2014
Edited: Monday, January 27, 2014

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Haze by Carl Sandburg )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

New Poems

  1. A Confession, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  2. My Dog Lays at, David McLansky
  3. Asthi-Kalasha, Bijay Kant Dubey
  4. And We Came to Pass, Abdulrasaq Akingbo Okanlambe
  5. Praising a Poet, 'me' by a Co-Poet!, Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
  6. My Dog Lays at My Feet, David McLansky
  7. The two I trust (sonnet), Tinashe Mupedzapasi
  8. Owls or rats, Tinashe Mupedzapasi
  9. Jesus, God, Tinashe Mupedzapasi
  10. माँ का सूरज कहीं खो गया, Aftab Alam

Poem of the Day

poet Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  3. 1914 V: The Soldier, Rupert Brooke
  4. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  5. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  6. Television, Roald Dahl
  7. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  8. If, Rudyard Kipling
  9. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  10. All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]