Carl Sandburg

The Great Hunt

I CANNOT tell you now;
    When the wind’s drive and whirl
    Blow me along no longer,
    And the wind’s a whisper at last—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
                        some other time.
 
    When the rose’s flash to the sunset
    Reels to the rack and the twist,
    And the rose is a red bygone,
    When the face I love is going
    And the gate to the end shall clang,
    And it’s no use to beckon or say, “So long”—
Maybe I’ll tell you then—
                        some other time.
 
I never knew any more beautiful than you:
    I have hunted you under my thoughts,
    I have broken down under the wind
    And into the roses looking for you.
         I shall never find any
                        greater than you.
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