Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Carl Sandburg Poems

1. Kreisler 1/27/2014
2. Mascots 1/27/2014
3. Palladiums 1/27/2014
4. Spanish 1/27/2014
5. Crimson Rambler 1/27/2014
6. Near Keokuk 1/27/2014
7. Clinton South Of Polk 1/27/2014
8. Rusty Crimson 1/27/2014
9. Paula 1/27/2014
10. Leather Leggings 1/27/2014
11. Bilbea 1/27/2014
12. The Long Shadow of Lincoln: A Litany 6/19/2015
13. Killers 2/1/2016
14. Carlovingian Dreams 1/27/2014
15. Do You Want Affidavits? 1/27/2014
16. Potomac Town In February 1/27/2014
17. Streets Too Old 1/27/2014
18. Calls 1/27/2014
19. Mammy Hums 1/27/2014
20. Stripes 1/27/2014
21. Five Towns On The B. & O. 1/27/2014
22. Real Estate News 1/27/2014
23. Panels 1/27/2014
24. Sandhill People 1/27/2014
25. Three Violins 1/27/2014
26. Ossawatomie 1/27/2014
27. Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache 1/27/2014
28. Loin Cloth 1/27/2014
29. Pick Offs 1/27/2014
30. Pigeon 1/27/2014
31. The Plowboy 1/27/2014
32. Cahoots 1/21/2014
33. Corn Hut Talk 1/27/2014
34. Timesweep 6/22/2015
35. Prayers After World War 1/27/2014
36. Memoranda 1/27/2014
37. House 1/27/2014
38. Shagbark Hickory 1/27/2014
39. How Yesterday Looked 1/27/2014
40. Pods 1/27/2014
Best Poem of Carl Sandburg

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Read the full of Fog

Silver Nails

A man was crucified. He came to the city a stranger,
was accused, and nailed to a cross. He lingered hanging.
Laughed at the crowd. "The nails are iron," he
said, "You are cheap. In my country when we crucify
we use silver nails. . ." So he went jeering. They
did not understand him at first. Later they talked about
him in changed voices in the saloons, bowling alleys, and
churches. It came over them every man is crucified
only once in his life and the law of humanity dictates

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