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Poems List
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe he believes me, maybe not.
Maybe I can marry him, maybe not.
Maybe the wind on the prairie,
The wind on the sea, maybe,
Somebody, somewhere, maybe can tell.
I will lay my head on his shoulder
And when he asks me I will say yes,
Maybe.
Maybe he believes me, maybe not.
Maybe I can marry him, maybe not.
Maybe the wind on the prairie,
The wind on the sea, maybe,
Somebody, somewhere, maybe can tell.
I will lay my head on his shoulder
And when he asks me I will say yes,
Maybe.
👁️ 303
Mask
Mask
Fling your red scarf faster and faster, dancer.
It is summer and the sun loves a million green leaves, masses of green.
Your red scarf flashes across them calling and a-calling.
The silk and flare of it is a great soprano leading a chorus
Carried along in a rouse of voices reaching for the heart of the world.
Your toes are singing to meet the song of your arms:
Let the red scarf go swifter.
Summer and the sun command you.
Fling your red scarf faster and faster, dancer.
It is summer and the sun loves a million green leaves, masses of green.
Your red scarf flashes across them calling and a-calling.
The silk and flare of it is a great soprano leading a chorus
Carried along in a rouse of voices reaching for the heart of the world.
Your toes are singing to meet the song of your arms:
Let the red scarf go swifter.
Summer and the sun command you.
👁️ 323
Manual System
Manual System
Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears
And sits all day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in.
Flashes and flashes--voies and voices
calling for ears to put words in
Faces at the ends of wires asking for other faces
at the ends of other wires:
All day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in,
Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears.
Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears
And sits all day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in.
Flashes and flashes--voies and voices
calling for ears to put words in
Faces at the ends of wires asking for other faces
at the ends of other wires:
All day taking plugs out and sticking plugs in,
Mary has a thingamajig clamped on her ears.
👁️ 344
Mamie
Mamie
Mamie beat her head against the bars of a little Indiana town and dreamed of romance
and big things off somewhere the way the railroad trains all ran.
She could see the smoke of the engines get lost down where the streaks of steel
flashed in the sun and when the newspapers came in on the morning mail she knew
there was a big Chicago far off, where all the trains ran.
She got tired of the barber shop boys and the post office chatter and the church gossip
and the old pieces the band played on the Fourth of July and Decoration Day
And sobbed at her fate and beat her head against the bars and was going to kill herself
When the thought came to her that if she was going to die she might as well die
struggling for a clutch of romance among the streets of Chicago.
She has a job now at six dollars a week in the basement of the Boston Store
And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if
there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is
romance
and big things
and real dreams
that never go smash.
Mamie beat her head against the bars of a little Indiana town and dreamed of romance
and big things off somewhere the way the railroad trains all ran.
She could see the smoke of the engines get lost down where the streaks of steel
flashed in the sun and when the newspapers came in on the morning mail she knew
there was a big Chicago far off, where all the trains ran.
She got tired of the barber shop boys and the post office chatter and the church gossip
and the old pieces the band played on the Fourth of July and Decoration Day
And sobbed at her fate and beat her head against the bars and was going to kill herself
When the thought came to her that if she was going to die she might as well die
struggling for a clutch of romance among the streets of Chicago.
She has a job now at six dollars a week in the basement of the Boston Store
And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if
there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is
romance
and big things
and real dreams
that never go smash.
👁️ 349
Lost
Lost
Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor's breast
And the harbor's eyes.
Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor's breast
And the harbor's eyes.
👁️ 351
Localities
Localities
Wagon wheel gap is a place I never saw
And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of Cripple Creek.
Red-shirted miners picking in the sluices,
Gamblers with red neckties in the night streets,
The fly-by-night towns of Bull Frog and Skiddoo,
The night-cool limestone white of Death Valley,
The straight drop of eight hundred feet
From a shelf road in the Hasiampa Valley:
Men and places they are I never saw.
I have seen three White Horse taverns,
One in Illinois, one in Pennsylvania,
One in a timber-hid road of Wisconsin.
I bought cheese and crackers
Between sun showers in a place called White Pigeon
Nestling with a blacksmith shop, a post-office,
And a berry-crate factory, where four roads cross.
On the Pecatonica River near Freeport
I have seen boys run barefoot in the leaves
Throwing clubs at the walnut trees
In the yellow-and-gold of autumn,
And there was a brown mash dry on the inside of their hands.
On the Cedar Fork Creek of Knox County
I know how the fingers of late October
Loosen the hazel nuts.
I know the brown eyes of half-open hulls.
I know boys named Lindquist, Swanson, Hildebrand.
I remember their cries when the nuts were ripe.
And some are in machine shops; some are in the navy;
And some are not on payrolls anywhere.
Their mothers are through waiting for them to come home.
Wagon wheel gap is a place I never saw
And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of Cripple Creek.
Red-shirted miners picking in the sluices,
Gamblers with red neckties in the night streets,
The fly-by-night towns of Bull Frog and Skiddoo,
The night-cool limestone white of Death Valley,
The straight drop of eight hundred feet
From a shelf road in the Hasiampa Valley:
Men and places they are I never saw.
I have seen three White Horse taverns,
One in Illinois, one in Pennsylvania,
One in a timber-hid road of Wisconsin.
I bought cheese and crackers
Between sun showers in a place called White Pigeon
Nestling with a blacksmith shop, a post-office,
And a berry-crate factory, where four roads cross.
On the Pecatonica River near Freeport
I have seen boys run barefoot in the leaves
Throwing clubs at the walnut trees
In the yellow-and-gold of autumn,
And there was a brown mash dry on the inside of their hands.
On the Cedar Fork Creek of Knox County
I know how the fingers of late October
Loosen the hazel nuts.
I know the brown eyes of half-open hulls.
I know boys named Lindquist, Swanson, Hildebrand.
I remember their cries when the nuts were ripe.
And some are in machine shops; some are in the navy;
And some are not on payrolls anywhere.
Their mothers are through waiting for them to come home.
👁️ 315
Limited
Limited
I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains
of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air
go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men
and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall
pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he
answers: "Omaha."
I am riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains
of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air
go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men
and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall
pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he
answers: "Omaha."
👁️ 372
Lawyer
Lawyer
When the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations,
hot clashes
of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge,
There are points of high silence--twiddling of thumbs is at an end--bailiffs near
cuspidors take fresh
chews of tobacco and wait--and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard.
A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty"
to enter
motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with
bitter wrongs
mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many
preposterous,
unjust circumstances.
When the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations,
hot clashes
of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge,
There are points of high silence--twiddling of thumbs is at an end--bailiffs near
cuspidors take fresh
chews of tobacco and wait--and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard.
A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty"
to enter
motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with
bitter wrongs
mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many
preposterous,
unjust circumstances.
👁️ 369
Last Answers
Last Answers
I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
into points of mystery quivering with color.
I answered:
The whole world was mist once long ago and some day
it will all go back to mist,
Our skulls and lungs are more water than bone and tissue
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers
Go running back to dust and mist.
I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
into points of mystery quivering with color.
I answered:
The whole world was mist once long ago and some day
it will all go back to mist,
Our skulls and lungs are more water than bone and tissue
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers
Go running back to dust and mist.
👁️ 270
Kin
Kin
Brother, I am fire
Surging under the ocean floor.
I shall never meet you, brother—
Not for years, anyhow;
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Then I will warm you,
Hold you close, wrap you in circles,
Use you and change you—
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Brother, I am fire
Surging under the ocean floor.
I shall never meet you, brother—
Not for years, anyhow;
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Then I will warm you,
Hold you close, wrap you in circles,
Use you and change you—
Maybe thousands of years, brother.
👁️ 391
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Poet Carl Sandburg interview (1956)
Carl Sandburg "Recites His Civil War Address" on The Ed Sullivan Show
Marie Foolchand: “I am the People, the Mob” by Carl Sandburg
" FOG" by Carl Sandburg | Poetry Reading
The Day Carl Sandburg Died - American Masters
CHICAGO by Carl Sandburg - FULL Poem | Greatest AudioBooks
Happiness by Carl Sandburg | a poetry film
Carl Sandburg sings "The Hearse Song"
Carl Sandburg sings "Red River Valley"
Carl Sandburg Home | NC Weekend
Pulitzer Winner Carl Sandburg on His Writing Process and His Biography of Abraham Lincoln
Carl Sandburg – Sings His American Songbag
CARL SANDBURG reads "Grass"
Kyla Kane: "Chicago" by Carl Sandburg
Carl Sandburg: His Life, His Poetry, His Cause
Carl Sandburg sings "If I Die a Railroad Man"
Carl Sandburg's Connemara
Poetry: "Chicago" by Carl Sandburg (read by Gary Sinise)
Carl Sandburg on Abraham Lincoln at Joint Session of Congress 1959
What's My Line? - Carl Sandburg; Milton Berle; Nick Adams [panel] (Sep 11, 1960)
Carl Sandburg sings " Wanderin' "
Meet Carl Sandburg - Poet - Folk Singer - Author - Historian - Biography in Sound
Carl Sandburg College women's basketball vs. Black Hawk
Man Born in 1878 Talks About Politics in 1884
Carl Sandburg College men's basketball vs. Black Hawk
Carl Sandburg Home - Flat Rock, North Carolina
Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg | a poetry film
Carl Sandburg sings "My Name Is Yon Yonson"
Carl Sandburg sings "The Horse Named Bill"
Carl Sandburg Reads Poetry For Children, 1959
Carl Sandburg sings "I Ride an Old Paint"
Carl Sandburg-How To Tell Corn Fairies When You See Them
WILDERNESS by Carl Sandburg, read by Mike Clelland
I am the people,the mob|English poetry recitation|Carl Sandburg poems
Poetry Out Loud - "I Am The People, The Mob" by Carl Sandburg
Carl Sandburg College women's basketball vs. Kishwaukee
Come On! Feel the Illinoise! Part I: The World's Columbian Exposition Part II: Carl Sandburg...
Carl Sandburg College women's basketball vs. John Wood
"Fog" Carl Sandburg poem CARL SANDBURG RECITES (poetry is like music--listen for musical effects)
Carl Sandburg College men's basketball vs. John Wood
A Brief Introduction to Carl Sandburg and a Reading and Analysis of His Poem, The Grass
Poetry recitation "Chicago by Carl Sandburg"
Carl Sandburg's "Fog"
Theme in Yellow by Carl Sandburg (Graveyard Poetry)
Estera Musiala: "Chicago" by Carl Sandburg
Carl Sandburg's Poem 'Happiness' / in Tamil / UG TRB / Bharath Ravindran / Bharath Academy
Carl Sandburg "The People Yes" Poem animation
Carl Sandburg College men's basketball vs. Kishwaukee
Sketch by Carl Sandburg
At A Window (Carl Sandburg)
Carl Sandburg (January 6, 1878 – July 22, 1967)
Carl Sandburg was an American writer and editor, best known for his poetry.
He won three Pulitzer Prizes, two for his poetry and another for a biography
of Abraham Lincoln. H. L. Mencken called Carl Sandburg "indubitably an American in
every pulse-beat."
Biography
Sandburg was born in Galesburg, Illinois, to parents of Swedish ancestry. At
the age of thirteen (During Eighth grade) he left school and began driving a
milk wagon. From the age of about fourteen until he was seventeen or
eighteen, he worked as a porter at the Union Hotel barbershop in Galesburg.
After that he was on the milk route again for 18 months. He then became a
bricklayer and a farm laborer on the wheat plains of Kansas. After an interval
spent at Lombard College in Galesburg, he became a hotel servant in
Denver, then a coal-heaver in Omaha. He began his writing career as a
journalist for the Chicago Daily News. Later he wrote poetry, history,
biographies, novels, children's literature, and film reviews. Sandburg also
collected and edited books of ballads and folklore. He spent most of his life in
the Midwest before moving to North Carolina.
Sandburg volunteered to go to the military and was stationed in Puerto Rico
with the 6th Illinois Infantry during the Spanish–American War, disembarking
at Guánica, Puerto Rico on July 25, 1898. Sandburg was never actually called
to battle. He attended West Point for just two weeks, before failing a
mathematics and grammar exam. Sandburg returned to Galesburg and
entered Lombard College, but left without a degree in 1903.
He moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and joined the Social Democratic Party,
the name by which the Socialist Party of America was known in the state.
Sandburg served as a secretary to Emil Seidel, socialist mayor of Milwaukee
from 1910 to 1912.
Sandburg met Lilian Steichen at the Social Democratic Party office in 1907,
and they married the next year. Lilian's brother was the photographer
Edward Steichen. Sandburg with his wife, whom he called Paula, raised three
daughters.
Sandburg moved to Harbert, Michigan, and then suburban Chicago, Illinois.
They lived in Evanston, Illinois, before settling at 331 S. York Street in
Elmhurst, Illinois, from 1919 to 1930. Sandburg wrote three children's books
in Elmhurst, Rootabaga Stories, in 1922, followed by Rootabaga Pigeons
(1923), and Potato Face (1930). Sandburg also wrote Abraham Lincoln: The
Prairie Years, a two volume biography in 1926, The American Songbag
(1927), and a book of poems Good Morning, America (1928) in Elmhurst.
The family moved to Michigan in 1930. The Sandburg house at 331 W. York
Street, Elmhurst was demolished and the site is now a parking lot. The War
Years, for which he won the Pulitzer Prize in 1940. Sandburg's Complete
Poems won him a second Pulitzer Prize in 1951.
He moved to a Flat Rock, North Carolina estate, Connemara, in 1945 and
lived there until his death in 1967.
Sandburg supported the civil rights movement, and contributed to the
NAACP.
Works
Carl Sandburg rented a room in this house where he lived for three years
while he wrote the poem "Chicago". It's now a Chicago landmark. Much of
Carl Sandburg's poetry, such as "Chicago", focused on Chicago, Illinois,
where he spent time as a reporter for the Chicago Daily News and the Day
Book. His most famous description of the city is as "Hog Butcher for the
World/Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat/Player with Railroads and the Nation's
Freight Handler,/Stormy, Husky, Brawling, City of the Big Shoulders."
Sandburg is also remembered by generations of children for his Rootabaga
Stories and Rootabaga Pigeons, a series of whimsical, sometimes melancholy
stories he originally created for his own daughters. The Rootabaga Stories
were born of Sandburg's desire for "American fairy tales" to match American
childhood. He felt that the European stories involving royalty and knights
were inappropriate, and so populated his stories with skyscrapers, trains,
corn fairies and the "Five Marvelous Pretzels".
Sandburg earned Pulitzer Prizes for his collection The Complete Poems of
Carl Sandburg, Corn Huskers, and for his biography of Abraham Lincoln
(Abraham Lincoln: The War Years). He recorded excerpts from the
biography and some of Lincoln's speeches for Caedmon Records in New York
City in May 1957. He was awarded a Grammy Award in 1959 for Best
Performance – Documentary Or Spoken Word (Other Than Comedy) for his
recording of Aaron Copland's Lincoln Portrait with the New York Philharmonic.
Legacy
Carl Sandburg's boyhood home in Galesburg is now operated by the Illinois
Historic Preservation Agency as the Carl Sandburg State Historic Site. The
site contains the cottage Sandburg was born in, a modern visitor's center,
and small garden with a large stone called Remembrance Rock, under which
he and his wife Lilian's ashes are buried. Sandburg's home of 22 years in Flat
Rock, Henderson County, North Carolina, is preserved by the National Park
Service as the Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site. Carl Sandburg
College is located in Sandburg's birthplace of Galesburg, Illinois.
Carl Sandburg Village was a Chicago urban renewal project of the 1960s
located in the Near North Side, Chicago. Financed by the city, it is located
between Clark and LaSalle St. between Division Street and North Ave.
Solomon & Cordwell, architects. In 1979, Carl Sandburg Village was
converted to condominium ownership.
Elmhurst, Illinois, renamed the former Elmhurst Junior High School as 'Carl
Sandburg Middle School,' in his honor in 1960. Sandburg spoke at the
dedication ceremony. He resided at 331 S. York Street in Elmhurst from
1919 to 1930. The house was demolished and the site is a parking lot. In
1954, Carl Sandburg High School was dedicated in Orland Park, Illinois. Mr.
Sandburg was in attendance, and stretched what was supposed to be a one
hour event into several hours, regaling students with songs and stories.
Years later, he returned to the school with no identification and, appearing to
be a hobo, was thrown out by the principal. When he later returned with
I.D., the embarrassed principal canceled the rest of the school day and held
an assembly to honor the visit. In 1959, Carl Sandburg Junior High School
was opened in Golden Valley, Minnesota. Carl Sandburg attended the
dedication of the school. In 1988 the name was changed to Sandburg Middle
School servicing grades 6, 7, and 8. Originally built with a capacity for 1,800
students the school now has 1,100 students enrolled. Sandburg Middle
school was one of the first schools in the state of Minnesota to offer
accelerated learning programs for gifted students. In December 1961, Carl
Sandburg Elementary School was dedicated in San Bruno, California. Again,
Sandburg came for the ceremonies and was clearly impressed with the faces
of the young children, who gathered around him. The school was closed in
the 1980s, due to falling enrollments in the San Bruno Park School District.
In Neshaminy School District of lower Bucks County resides the secondary
institution Carl Sandburg Middle School. Located in the lobby is a finished
split tree trunk with the quote engraved lengthwise horizontally: "Man is
born with rainbows in his heart and you'll never read him unless you consider
rainbows". Another secondary school by the same name is located south of
Alexandria, Virginia, and is part of the Fairfax County Public Schools School
District. Sandburg Halls is a student residence hall at the University of
Wisconsin–Milwaukee. The building consists of 4 high rise towers with a total
housing capacity of 2,700 students. It has an exterior plaque on Sandburg's
roles as an organizer for the Social Democratic Party and as personal
secretary to Emil Seidel, Milwaukee's first Socialist mayor. There are several
other schools named after Sandburg in Illinois, including those in Wheaton,
Orland Park, Springfield, Mundelein, and Joliet.
Eserleri:
In Reckless Ecstasy (1904)
Abe Lincoln Grows Up (N/A)
Incidentals (1904)
Plaint of a Rose (1908)
Joseffy (1910)
You and Your Job (1910)
Chicago Poems (1916)
Cornhuskers (1918)
Chicago Race Riots (1919)
Clarence Darrow of Chicago (1919)
Smoke and Steel (1920)
Rootabaga Stories (1922)
Slabs of the Sunburnt West (1922)
Rootabaga Pigeons (1923)
Selected Poems (1926)
Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years (1926)
The American Songbag (1927)
Songs of America (1927)
Abe Lincoln Grows Up (1928)
Good Morning, America (1928)
Steichen the Photographer (1929)
Early Moon (1930)
Potato Face (1930)
Mary Lincoln: Wife and Widow (1932)
The People, Yes (1936)
Abraham Lincoln: The War Years (1939)
Storm over the Land (1942)
Road to Victory (1942)
Home Front Memo (1943)
Remembrance Rock (1948)
Lincoln Collector: the story of the Oliver R. Barrett Lincoln collection (1949)
The New American Songbag (1950)
Complete Poems (1950)
The wedding procession of the rag doll and the broom handle and who was in
it (1950)
Always the Young Strangers (1953)
Selected poems of Carl Sandburg (1954)
The Family of Man (1955)
Prairie-town boy (1955)
Sandburg Range (1957)
Harvest Poems, 1910–1960 (1960)
Wind Song (1960)
Honey and Salt (1963)
The Letters of Carl Sandburg (1968)
Breathing Tokens (poetry by Sandburg, edited by Margaret Sandburg)
(1978)
Ever the Winds of Chance (1983)
Carl Sandburg at the movies : a poet in the silent era, 1920–1927 (1985)
Billy Sunday and other poems (1993)
Poems for children nowhere near old enough to vote (1999)
Abraham Lincoln : the prairie years and the war years (2007)