Love poems

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How Much?

© Carl Sandburg

HOW much do you love me, a million bushels?
Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more.

And to-morrow maybe only half a bushel?

LET us sit by a hissing steam radiator a winters day, gray wind pattering frozen raindrops on the window,
And let us talk about milk wagon drivers and grocery delivery boys.

Let us keep our feet in wool slippers and mix hot punchesand talk about mail carriers and messenger boys slipping along the icy sidewalks.

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;

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.

Graves

© Carl Sandburg

I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man damned as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed.

Gone

© Carl Sandburg

Were there ten men or a hundred hunting Chick?
Were there five men or fifty with aching hearts?
Everybody loved Chick Lorimer.
Nobody knows where she's gone.

Garden Wireless

© Carl Sandburg

HOW many feet ran with sunlight, water, and air?

What little devils shaken of laughter, cramming their little ribs with chuckles,

Fire Dreams

© Carl Sandburg

I REMEMBER here by the fire,
In the flickering reds and saffrons,
They came in a ramshackle tub,
Pilgrims in tall hats,

Far Rockaway Night till Morning

© Carl Sandburg

WHAT can we say of the night?
The fog night, the moon night, the fog moon night last night?

There swept out of the sea a song.

Falltime

© Carl Sandburg

GOLD of a ripe oat straw, gold of a southwest moon,
Canada thistle blue and flimmering larkspur blue,
Tomatoes shining in the October sun with red hearts,
Shining five and six in a row on a wooden fence,

Early Moon

© Carl Sandburg

THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west.
A ring of silver foxes, a mist of silver foxes, sit and sit around the Indian moon.
One yellow star for a runner, and rows of blue stars for more runners, keep a line of watchers.
O foxes, baby moon, runners, you are the panel of memory, fire-white writing to-night of the Red Mans dreams.

Dynamiter

© Carl Sandburg

I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon
eating steak and onions.
And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children
and the cause of labor and the working class.

Drumnotes

© Carl Sandburg

DAYS of the dead men, Danny.
Drum for the dead, drum on your
remembering heart.

Dogheads

AMONG the grassroots
In the moonlight, who comes circling,
red tongues and high noses?
Is one of em Buck and one of em

Crimson Changes People

DID I see a crucifix in your eyes
and nails and Roman soldiers
and a dusk Golgotha?

Cool Tombs

WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin in the dust, in the cool tombs.

And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, cash and collateral turned ashes in the dust, in the cool tombs.

Clean Hands

IT is something to face the sun and know you are free.
To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth
And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean:
It is something.

Circles of Doors

I LOVE him, I love him, ran the patter of her lips
And she formed his name on her tongue and sang
And she sent him word she loved him so much,
So much, and death was nothing; work, art, home,

Child

The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters