Poems begining by H
/ page 83 of 105 /
High Conspiratorial Person
© Carl Sandburg
OUT of the testimony of such reluctant lips, out of the oaths and mouths of such scrupulous liars, out of perjurers whose hands swore by God to the white sun before all men,
Out of a rag saturated with smears and smuts gathered from the footbaths of kings and the loin cloths of whores, from the scabs of Babylon and Jerusalem to the scabs of London and New York,
Hemlock and Cedar
© Carl Sandburg
THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs
near the shingle mill
winter morning.
Falling of a dry leaf might be heard
circular steel tears through a log.
Slope of woodland
brown
soft
tinge of blue such as pansy eyes.
Farther, field fires
funnel of yellow smoke
spellings of other yellow in corn stubble.
Bobsled on a down-hill road
February snow mud
horses steaming
Oscar the driver sings ragtime under a spot of red seen a mile
the red wool yarn of Oscars stocking cap is seen from the shingle mill to the ridge of hemlock and cedar.
Helga
© Carl Sandburg
THE WISHES on this childs mouth
Came like snow on marsh cranberries;
The tamarack kept something for her;
The wind is ready to help her shoes.
Haze
© Carl Sandburg
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;
Haunts
© Carl Sandburg
THERE are places I go when I am strong.
One is a marsh pool where I used to go
with a long-ear hound-dog.
One is a wild crabapple tree; I was there
Hats
© Carl Sandburg
HATS, where do you belong?
what is under you?
On the rim of a skyscrapers forehead
Harvest Sunset
© Carl Sandburg
RED gold of pools,
Sunset furrows six oclock,
And the farmer done in the fields
And the cows in the barns with bulging udders.
Handfuls
© Carl Sandburg
BLOSSOMS of babies
Blinking their stories
Come soft
On the dusk and the babble;
Half Moon in a High Wind
© Carl Sandburg
MONEY is nothing now, even if I had it,
O mooney moon, yellow half moon,
Up over the green pines and gray elms,
Up in the new blue.
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.
Humming Bird Woman
© Carl Sandburg
WHY should I be wondering
How you would look in black velvet and yellow? in orange and green?
I who cannot remember whether it was a dash of blue
Or a whirr of red under your willow throat
Why do I wonder how you would look in humming-bird feathers?
Humdrum
© Carl Sandburg
IF I had a million lives to live
and a million deaths to die
in a million humdrum worlds,
Id like to change my name
Honky Tonk in Cleveland, Ohio
© Carl Sandburg
ITS a jazz affair, drum crashes and cornet razzes
The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts.
The banjo tickles and titters too awful.
The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers.
Hate
© Carl Sandburg
ONE man killed another. The saying between them had been Id give you the shirt off my back.
The killer wept over the dead. The dead if he looks back knows the killer was sorry. It was a shot in one second of hate out of ten years of love.
Why is the sun a red ball in the six oclock mist?
Why is the moon a tumbling chimney?
tumbling
tumbling
Id give you the shirt off my back
And Ill kill you if my head goes wrong.
Happiness
© Carl Sandburg
I ASKED the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
