Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Troths
Yellow dust on a bumblebee's wing,Grey lights in a woman'sasking eyes,Red ruins in the changingsunset embers:I take you and pile highthe..
© Carl Sandburg
Trinity Place
THE GRAVE of Alexander Hamilton is in Trinity yard at the end of Wall Street.The grave of Robert Fulton likewise is in Trinity yard where Wall Street..
© Carl Sandburg
Trafficker
Among the shadows where two streets cross,A woman lurks in the dark and waitsTo move on when a policeman heaves in view.Smiling a broken smile from a..
© Carl Sandburg
To Certain Journeymen
Undertakers, hearse drivers, grave diggers,I speak to you as one not afraid of your business.You handle dust going to a long country,You know the..
© Carl Sandburg
To Beachey, 1912
Riding against the east,A veering, steady shadowPurrs the motor-callOf the man-birdReady with the death-laughterIn his throatAnd in his heart..
© Carl Sandburg
To A Dead Man
Over the dead line we have called to youTo come across with a word to us,Some beaten whisper of what happensWhere you are over the dead lineDeaf to..
© Carl Sandburg
To A Contemporary Bunkshooter
You come along. . . tearing your shirt. . . yelling aboutJesus.Where do you get that stuff?What do you know about Jesus?Jesus had a way of talking..
© Carl Sandburg
Timesweep
I was born in the morning of the world,So I know how morning looksmorning in the valley wanting,morning on a mountain wanting.Morning looks like..
© Carl Sandburg
Timber Wings
THERE was a wild pigeon came often to Hinkley's timber.Gray wings that wrote their loops and triangles on the walnuts and the hazel.There was a wild..
© Carl Sandburg
Throwbacks
SOMEWHERE you and I remember we came.Stairways from the sea and our heads dripping.Ladders of dust and mud and our hair snarled.Rags of drenching..
© Carl Sandburg
Throw Roses
THROW roses on the sea where the dead went down.The roses speak to the sea,And the sea to the dead.Throw roses, O lovers-Let the leaves wash on the..
© Carl Sandburg
Threes
I was a boy when I heard three red wordsa thousand Frenchmen died in the streetsfor: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity--I askedwhy men die for words.I..
© Carl Sandburg
Three Violins
THREE violins are trying their hearts.The piece is MacDowell's Wild Rose.And the time of the wild roseAnd the leaves of the wild roseAnd the dew-shot..
© Carl Sandburg
Three Spring Notations On Bipeds
THE DOWN drop of the blackbird,The wing catch of arrested flight,The stop midway and then off: off for triangles, circles, loops of new..
© Carl Sandburg
Three Pieces On The Smoke Of Autumn
SMOKE of autumn is on it all.The streamers loosen and travel.The red west is stopped with a gray haze.They fill the ash trees, they wrap the..
© Carl Sandburg
Three Ghosts
THREE tailors of Tooley Street wrote: We, the People.The names are forgotten. It is a joke in ghosts.Cutters or bushelmen or armhole basters, they..
© Carl Sandburg
Three Balls
JABOWSKY'S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty threeballs.When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud..
© Carl Sandburg
Thin Strips
IN a jeweler's shop I saw a man beatingout thin sheets of gold. I heard a womanlaugh many years ago.Under a peach tree I saw petals scattered.. torn..
© Carl Sandburg
They Will Say
Of my city the worst that men will ever say is this:You took little children away from the sun and the dew,And the glimmers that played in the grass..
© Carl Sandburg
They Buy With An Eye To Looks
THE FINE cloth of your love might be a fabric of Egypt,Something Sinbad, the sailor, took away from robbers,Something a traveler with plenty of money..
© Carl Sandburg
They Ask Each Other Where They Came From
AM I the river your white birds fly over?Are you the green valley my silver channels roam?The two of us a bowl of blue sky day time and a bowl of red..
© Carl Sandburg
They All Want To Play Hamlet
They all want to play Hamlet.They have not exactly seen their fathers killedNor their mothers in a frame-up to kill,Nor an Ophelia lying with dust..
© Carl Sandburg
Theme In Yellow
I spot the hillsWith yellow balls in autumn.I light the prairie cornfieldsOrange and tawny gold clustersAnd I am called pumpkins.On the last of..
© Carl Sandburg
The Year
IA storm of white petals,Buds throwing open baby fistsInto hands of broad flowers.IIRed roses running upward,Clambering to the clutches of lifeSoaked..
© Carl Sandburg
The Windy City [sections 1 and 6]
1The lean hands of wagon menput out pointing fingers here,picked this crossway, put it on a map,set up their sawbucks, fixed their shotguns,found a..
© Carl Sandburg