Sandburg

I’m Carl Sandburg, a poet.

I’m not T.S. Eliot. If you want Rhyme, I haven’t got the time. But if you want Stackers of Wheat, Players of Railroads, Brawny Shoulders or Hog Butcher for the World, I give you “Chicago.”

I’m not Bobby Frost. If you want Rhyme, I haven’t got the time. But if you want a Hunky sweeping hog blood for a dollar seventy cents a day, a three year old daughter in a cold white coffin or a family full sorrow, I give you ” The Right to Grief.”

I’m Carl Sandburg, a poet.

If you want Rhyme, I haven’t got the time.