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

  • Michael WalkerMichael Walker (10/24/2019 10:39:00 PM)

    I can understand why he would prefer to be a sunflower rather than a cripple close
    to death.(Report)Reply

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

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

    2 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: summer, house, rain, dark, night, star



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003