Carl Sandburg – Fire Dreams

(Written to be read aloud, if so be, Thanksgiving Day)

I remember here by the fire,

In the flickering reds and saffrons,

They came in a ramshackle tub,

Pilgrims in tall hats,

Pilgrims of iron jaws,

Drifting by weeks on beaten seas,

And the random chapters say

They were glad and sang to God.

And so

Since the iron-jawed men sat down

And said, "Thanks, O God,"

For life and soup and a little less

Than a hobo handout to-day,

Since gray winds blew gray patterns of sleet on Plymouth Rock,

Since the iron-jawed men sang "Thanks, O God,"

You and I, O Child of the West,

Remember more than ever

November and the hunter's moon,

November and the yellow-spotted hills.

And so

In the name of the iron-jawed men

I will stand up and say yes till the finish is come and gone.

God of all broken hearts, empty hands, sleeping soldiers,

God of all star-flung beaches of night sky,

I and my love-child stand up together to-day and sing: "Thanks, O God."

Carl Sandburg – Paula

Nothing else in this song-only your face.

Nothing else here-only your drinking, night-gray eyes.

The pier runs into the lake straight as a rifle barrel.

I stand on the pier and sing how I know you mornings.

It is not your eyes, your face, I remember.

It is not your dancing, race-horse feet.

It is something else I remember you for on the pier mornings.

Your hands are sweeter than nut-brown bread when you touch me.

Your shoulder brushes my arm-a south-west wind crosses the pier.

I forget your hands and your shoulder and I say again:

Nothing else in this song-only your face.

Nothing else here-only your drinking, night-gray eyes.

Carl Sandburg – Dream Girl

You will come one day in a waver of love,

Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,

The tan of the sun will be on your skin,

The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,

You will pose with a hill-flower grace.

You will come, with your slim, expressive arms,

A poise of the head no sculptor has caught

And nuances spoken with shoulder and neck,

Your face in a pass-and-repass of moods

As many as skies in delicate change

Of cloud and blue and flimmering sun.

Yet,

You may not come, O girl of a dream,

We may but pass as the world goes by

And take from a look of eyes into eyes,

A film of hope and a memoried day.

Carl Sandburg – Do You Want Affidavits

THERE'S a hole in the bottom of the sea.

Do you want affidavits?

There's a man in the moon with money for you.

Do you want affidavits?

There are ten dancing girls in a sea-chamber off Nantucket waiting for you.

There are tall candles in Timbuctoo burning penance for you.

There are-anything else?

Speak now-for now we stand amid the great wishing windows-and the law says we are free to be wishing all this week at the windows.

Shall I raise my right hand and swear to you in the monotone of a notary public? this is 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

Carl Sandburg – Happiness

I asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell

me what is happiness.

And I went to famous executives who boss the work of

thousands of men.

They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though

I was trying to fool with them

And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along

the Desplaines river

And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with

their women and children and a keg of beer and an

accordion.