TAKE a hold now
On the silver handles here,
Six silver handles,
One for each of his old pals.
Take hold
And lift him down the stairs,
Put him on the rollers
Over the floor of the hearse.
Take him on the last haul,
To the cold straight house,
The level even house,
To the last house of all.
    The dead say nothing
    And the dead know much
    And the dead hold under their tongues
    A locked-up story.

  • 0
  • 0
Login to comment...

Other works by Carl Sandburg...

We need your help

Unlike many other websites, we haven’t put up a paywall – we want to keep access to poetry as open as we can. Growing and maintaining Poeticous takes a lot of time, money and hard work, and the revenue we get from advertising is almost nothing, so we increasingly need our readers to fund us. If everyone who reads our pages, who likes it, helps fund it, our future would be much more secure. Support Poetiocus from as little as $1.