Grass |
|
|
|
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work-- I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now?
I am the grass. Let me work.
|
|
Comments of this poem (0)
No comments
Please, comment this poem
More `Carl Sandburg` Poems
|
Dragoons, I tell you the white hydrangeas turn rust and go soon. Already mid September a line of brown runs over them.
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
MAMIE beat her head against the bars of a little Indiana
town and dreamed of romance and big things off
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
I am glad God saw Death And gave Death a job taking care of all who are tired of living:
|
Rating: 5.00 Votes: 1 |
|
|
Related Poets
John Gillespie Magee
(1)
(1922 - 1941)
John Gillespie Magee, Junior was an Anglo-American aviator and poet who died as a result of a mid-air collision over Lincolnshire during World War II.
|
Arthur Albert Dawson Bayldon
(6)
(1865 - 1958)
A freelance journalist and a Bulletin poet.
|
Classic Poems
|
Dear old road, wheel-worn and broken, Winding thro' the forest green,
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
How near me came the hand of Death, When at my side he struck my dear,
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
OUR little queen of dreams, Our image of delight,
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
Comfort derived from ancient providences.
|
Rating: 0.00 Votes: 0 |
|
|
|
What is the name you called me?-- And why did you go so soon?
|
Rating: 5.00 Votes: 2 |
|
|
|
|
|
|