All Poems

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Monotone

© Carl Sandburg

The monotone of the rain is beautiful,
And the sudden rise and slow relapse
Of the long multitudinous rain.

I WISH to God I never saw you, Mag.
I wish you never quit your job and came along with me.
I wish we never bought a license and a white dress
For you to get married in the day we ran off to a minister

Long Guns

© Carl Sandburg

THEN came, Oscar, the time of the guns.
And there was no land for a man, no land for a country,
Unless guns sprang up
And spoke their language.

Letter S

© Carl Sandburg

THE RIVER is gold under a sunset of Illinois.
It is a molten gold someone pours and changes.
A woman mixing a wedding cake of butter and eggs
Knows what the sunset is pouring on the river here.
The river twists in a letter S.
A gold S now speaks to the Illinois sky.

Laughing Blue Steel

© Carl Sandburg

TWO fishes swimming in the sea,
Two birds flying in the air,
Two chisels on an anvilmaybe.
Beaten, hammered, laughing blue steel to each othermaybe.

Kreisler

© Carl Sandburg

SELL me a violin, mister, of old mysterious wood.
Sell me a fiddle that has kissed dark nights on the forehead where men kiss sisters they love.
Sell me dried wood that has ached with passion clutching the knees and arms of a storm.
Sell me horsehair and rosin that has sucked at the breasts of the morning sun for milk.
Sell me something crushed in the heartsblood of pain readier than ever for one more song.

Jan Kubelik

© Carl Sandburg

YOUR bow swept over a string, and a long low note
quivered to the air.
(A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect
learning to suck milk.)

Home Thoughts

© Carl Sandburg

THE SEA rocks have a green moss.
The pine rocks have red berries.
I have memories of you.

Home Fires

© Carl Sandburg

IN a Yiddish eating place on Rivington Street faces coffee spots children kicking at the night stars with bare toes from bare buttocks.
They know it is September on Rivington when the red tomaytoes cram the pushcarts,
Here the children snozzle at milk bottles, children who have never seen a cow.
Here the stranger wonders how so many people remember where they keep home fires.

His Own Face Hidden

© Carl Sandburg

HOKUSAIS portrait of himself
Tells what his hat was like
And his arms and legs. The only faces
Are a river and a mountain

Have Me

© Carl Sandburg

HAVE me in the blue and the sun.
Have me on the open sea and the mountains.

When I go into the grass of the sea floor, I will go alone.

Halsted Street Car

© Carl Sandburg

COME you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o'clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.

From The Shore

© Carl Sandburg

A LONE gray bird,
Dim-dipping, far-flying,
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and storms.

Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind

© Carl Sandburg

The past is a bucket of ashes. 1THE WOMAN named To-morrow
sits with a hairpin in her teeth
and takes her time
and does her hair the way she wants it

For You

THE PEACE of great doors be for you.
Wait at the knobs, at the panel oblongs.
Wait for the great hinges.

Flash Crimson

I SHALL cry God to give me a broken foot.

I shall ask for a scar and a slashed nose.

Fish Crier

I KNOW a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with a
voice like a north wind blowing over corn stubble
in January.
He dangles herring before prospective customers evincing

Fire Pages

I WILL read ashes for you, if you ask me.
I will look in the fire and tell you from the gray lashes
And out of the red and black tongues and stripes,
I will tell how fire comes
And how fire runs far as the sea.

Finish

DEATH comes once, let it be easy.
Ring one bell for me once, let it go at that.
Or ring no bell at all, better yet.

Fight

I come from killing.
I go to more.
I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices
of my inside bones:
The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.