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Carl Sandburg

Carl Sandburg

Goldwing Moth

A GOLDWING moth is between the scissors and the ink bottle on the desk.  
Last night it flew hundreds of circles around a glass bulb and a flame wire.  
The wings are a soft gold; it is the gold of illuminated initials in manuscripts of the medieval monks.

Cornhuskers. 1918.

#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury

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Autres oeuvres par Carl Sandburg...
The Sins of Kalamazoo

THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neit… The sins of Kalamazoo are a convi… And the people who sin the sins of… They run to drabs and grays-and so… Yes, Kalamazoo is a spot on the m…
The People, Yes

Lincoln? He was a mystery in smoke and flag… Saying yes to the smoke, yes to th… Yes to the paradoxes of democracy, Yes to the hopes of government
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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…
Brass Keys

JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...
Pool

OUT of the fire Came a man sunken To less than cinders, A tea-cup of ashes or so. And I,
Whirls

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

ONCE when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with… Looking from hollow eyes, calling… Desperately gesturing with wasted… In the dark and dust of a house do…
Four Preludes to Playthings of the Wind

The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want… and fastens at last the last braid…
New Farm Tractor

The rear axles hold the kick of tw… It is in the records of the patent… The farm boy says hello to you ins… A bucket of oil and a can of greas… Rain proof and fool proof they sta…
A Teamster’s Farewell

Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…
The Windy City [sections 1 and 6]

The lean hands of wagon men put out pointing fingers here, picked this crossway, put it on a… set up their sawbucks, fixed their… found a hitching place for the pon…
Crucible

Hot gold runs a winding stream on… Yellow trickles in a fan figure, s… of dancing girls, performs blazing… one stream, forgets the past and r… The sea-mist green of the bowl’s b…
Dan

EARLY May, after cold rain the… Irish setter pup finds a corner ne… Cuddling there he crosses forepaws… Sideways on this pillow, dozing in… Browns of hazel nut, mahogany, ros…
Hoodlums

I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum… I hate and kill better men than I… In the ends of my fingers the itch… This is the hate my father gave me… Let us go on, brother hoodlums, le…
Legends

FIVE circus clowns dying this year, morning newspapers told their lives, how each one horizontal in a last gesture of hands arranged by an undertaker, shook thousands into convulsions o...



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