Harvest Poems: 1910-1960 (Harvest Book)

By Carl Sandburg

A consultant number of poems, culled from the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet’s released verse, plus 13 poems showing in e-book shape for the 1st time.

“[Sandburg’s poetry] is self reliant, sincere, direct, lyric, and it endures, clamorous and muted, magical as existence itself” (New York Times).

Introduction via Mark Van Doren.

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I sniff and bet . . . I choose issues out of the wind and air . . . I nostril at midnight evening and take sleepers and consume them and conceal the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross. there's a hog in me . . . a snout and a abdominal . . . a equipment for consuming and grunting . . . a equipment for slumbering chuffed within the sun—I bought this too from the desolate tract and the desert won't allow it pass. there's a fish in me . . . i do know I got here from salt-blue watergates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . earlier than land used to be . . . sooner than the water went down . . . ahead of Noah . . . prior to the 1st bankruptcy of Genesis. there's a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dogfaced . . . yawping a galoot’s starvation . . . furry lower than the armpits . . . listed below are the hawk-eyed hankering males . . . listed below are the blonde and blue-eyed girls . . . the following they cover curled asleep ready . . . able to snarl and kill . . . able to sing and provides milk . . . waiting—I continue the baboon as the desolate tract says so. there's an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies one of the Rocky Mountains of my goals and fights one of the Sierra crags of what i need . . . and the mockingbird warbles within the early forenoon sooner than the dew is long past, warbles within the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of desire, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I received the eagle and the mockingbird from the desolate tract. I acquired a zoo, I received a menagerie, within my ribs, lower than my bony head, below my red-valve heart—and I bought whatever else: it's a man-child center, a woman-child center: it's a parents and lover: it got here from God-Knows-Where: it's going to God-Knows Where—For i'm the keeper of the zoo: I say certain and no: I sing and kill and paintings: i'm a friend of the area: I got here from the barren region. Fire-Logs Nancy Hanks goals through the fireplace; desires, and the logs sputter, And the yellow tongues climb. crimson strains lick their manner in glints. Oh, sputter, logs. Oh, dream, Nancy. Time now for a stunning baby. Time now for a tall guy to return. Southern Pacific Huntington sleeps in a home six toes lengthy. Huntington goals of railroads he outfitted and owned. Huntington goals of 10000 males asserting: sure, sir. Blithery sleeps in a home six toes lengthy. Blithery desires of rails and ties he laid. Blithery goals of claiming to Huntington: certain, sir. Huntington, Blithery, sleep in homes six toes lengthy. Buffalo invoice Boy middle of Johnny Jones—aching this present day? Aching, and Buffalo invoice on the town? Buffalo invoice and ponies, cowboys, Indians? a few of us understand All approximately it, Johnny Jones. Buffalo invoice is a slanting glance of the eyes. A slanting glance lower than a hat on a horse. He sits on a horse and a passing glance is fastened On Johnny Jones, you and me, barelegged, A slanting, passing, careless glance lower than a hat on a horse. cross clickety-clack, O pony hoofs alongside the road. Come on and slant your eyes back, O Buffalo invoice. supply us back the discomfort of our boy hearts. Fill us back with the purple love of prairies, darkish nights, lonely wagons, and the crack-crack of rifles sputtering flashes into an ambush.

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