Illinois Farmer Poem by Carl Sandburg
Illinois Farmer
BURY this old Illinois farmer with respect.
He slept the Illinois nights of his life after days of work in Illinois cornfields.
Now he goes on a long sleep.
The wind he listened to in the cornsilk and the tassels, the wind that combed his red beard zero mornings when the snow lay white on the yellow ears in the bushel basket at the corncrib,
The same wind will now blow over the place here where his hands must dream of Illinois corn.
I asked that this poem be read at my Dad's funeral. He was born and raised on an Illinois farm, and farmed most of his life not far from that place. And, he did have a red beard in the winters to help warm his face as he worked outside in the bitter prairie cold.
very pathetic, unnoticed end of a humble farmer evokes a bereaved response from nature....apt devices masterfully applied in the poem spouts the pathos from within the sad poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 12:53:15 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I like it but is it a poem about illinois or a farmer......