Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and also Waterloo. Shovel them under and also let me work— ns am the grass; ns cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg and pile lock high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and also let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers questioning the conductor: What ar is this? Where space we now? i am the grass. Allow me work.

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Carl Sandburg was awarded three Pulitzer Prizes in his lifetime—the first in 1919 because that his poetry arsenal Corn Huskers, the 2nd in 1940 for hisbiographyAbraham Lincoln: The battle Years, and the third in 1951 forComplete Poems.

It"s a jazz affair, drum crashes and also cornet razzes.The trombone pony neighs and also the tuba jackass snorts.The banjo tickles and also titters too awful.The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers. The cartoonists weep in your beer. Ship riveters talk v their feet to the feet of floozies under the tables.A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers: "I got the blues. I acquired the blues. I obtained the blues."And . . . Together we said earlier: The cartoonists weep in your beer.

There is a wolf in me … fangs pointed because that tearing gashes … a red tongue for raw meat … and the warm lapping that blood—I keep this wolf due to the fact that the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will certainly not let that go.

There is a fox in me … a silver-gray fox … i sniff and also guess … ns pick points out of the wind and air … I nose in the dark night and also take sleepers and also eat them and hide the feathers … i circle and also loop and also double-cross.

There is a hog in me … a snout and also a ship … a machinery for eating and also grunting … a machine for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I obtained this as well from the wilderness and also the wilderness will certainly not let it go.

There is a fish in me … I understand I came from saltblue water-gates … i scurried with shoals that herring … I go out waterspouts v porpoises … prior to land was … prior to the water went under … prior to Noah … prior to the an initial chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me … clambering-clawed … dog-faced … yawping a galoot’s hunger … hairy under the armpits … here are the hawk-eyed hankering men … below are the blond and blue-eyed females … below they hide cutting asleep wait … all set to snarl and also kill … all set to sing and also give milk … waiting—I store the baboon because the wilderness states so.

There is one eagle in me and a mockingbird … and the eagle flies among the Rocky mountains of mine dreams and fights amongst the Sierra crags of what I desire … and also the mockingbird warbles in the early on forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas the hope, gushes end the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I obtained the eagle and also the mockingbird native the wilderness.

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O, I obtained a zoo, I acquired a menagerie, within my ribs, under mine bony head, under mine red-valve heart—and I acquired something else: that is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: the is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For i am the goalkeeper of the zoo: i say yes and no: ns sing and also kill and also work: ns am a pal that the world: I came from the wilderness.

Carl Sandburg


I. CHICKENSI to be The good White method of the city: once you questioning what is my desire, i answer: "Girls new as nation wild flowers, through young faces worn down of the cows and also barns, passionate in their eyes together the dawn to find my mysteries,Slender supple girls through shapely legs, tempt in the arch the their tiny shoulders and also wisdom from the prairies to cry just softly in ~ the ashes of mine mysteries." II. Provided UPLines based on certain regrets that come through ruminationupon the painted encounters of ladies on phibìc Clark Street, Chicago Roses, Red roses, Crushed In the rain and also wind like mouths of women Beaten by the fists of men using them. O tiny roses and also broken leaves and petal wisps: You that so flung your crimson to the sunOnly yesterday. III. HOMEHere is a thing my love wishes the human being had an ext of: i heard that in the waiting of one night when I listened to a mommy singing softly to a child restless and angry in the darkness.
Carl Sandburg