Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Cripple - Poem by Carl Sandburg

Once when I saw a cripple
Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague,
Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air,
Desperately gesturing with wasted hands
In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum,
I said to myself
I would rather have been a tall sunflower
Living in a country garden
Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer,
Rain-washed and dew-misted,
Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks,
And wonderingly watching night after night
The clear silent processionals of stars.


Comments about Cripple by Carl Sandburg

  • (2/28/2010 5:56:00 PM)


    Seems to be stating the pretty obvious. I'm surprised Sandburg was so admired once. (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • (2/28/2010 5:53:00 PM)


    Seems to be stating the pretty obvious. I'm surprised Sandburg was so admired once. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: summer, house, rain, dark, night, star



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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