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Carl Sandburg

Carl Sandburg

Monosyllabic

LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O Lord.  
Yesterday I loosed a snarl of words on a fool,  
       on a child.  
To-day, let me be monosyllabic … a crony of old men  
       who wash sunlight in their fingers and    
       enjoy slow-pacing clocks.

Cornhuskers. 1918.

#AmericanWriters

Autres oeuvres par Carl Sandburg...
Chamfort

THERE’S Chamfort. He’s a sampl… Locked himself in his library with… Shot off his nose and shot out his… And this Chamfort knew how to wri… And thousands read his books on ho…
Harrison Street Court

I HEARD a woman’s lips Speaking to a companion Say these words: “A woman what hustles Never keeps nothin’
Knucks

IN Abraham Lincoln’s city, Where they remember his lawyer’s s… The place where they brought him Wrapped in battle flags, Wrapped in the smoke of memories
Slants at Buffalo, New York

A FOREFINGER of stone, dreame… It says: This way! this way! Four lions snore in stone at the c… They too are the dream of a sculpt… They too say: This way! this way!
A Teamster's Farewell

GOOD-BY now to the streets and… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding… haunches,
Iron

GUNS, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war ships In the name of the war god. Straight, shining, polished guns,
Offering and Rebuff

I could love you as dry roots love rain. I could hold you as branches in the wind brandish petals.
 1
Grass

Pile the bodies high at Austerlit… Shovel them under and let me work— I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and V…
 1
Whirls

NEITHER rose leaves gathered in… Cinders-these-hissing in a marl an…
Graceland

TOMB of a millionaire, A multi-millionaire, ladies and ge… Place of the dead where they spend… The usury of twenty-five thousand… For upkeep and flowers
June

PAULA is digging and shaping the… Scarlet Chinese talker of summer. Two petals of crabapple blossom bl… hair, And fluff of white from a cottonwo…
On the Way

LITTLE one, you have been buzzi… Flittering in the newspapers and d… lawyers And amid the educated men of the c… getting an earful of speech from t…
The Red Son

I LOVE your faces I saw the man… I drank your milk and filled my mo… With your home talk, slept in your… And was one of you. But a fire burns in my heart.
Wilderness

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs… tongue for raw meat. . . and the h… this wolf because the wilderness g… will not let it go. There is a fox in me. . . a silver…
Yes, the Dead Speak to Us

This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back of the clamps on a fireproof door they hold the papers of the Dead in a house here And when two living men fall ou...



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