Home ⇒ 📌Carl Sandburg ⇒ I Sang
I Sang
I sang to you and the moon
But only the moon remembers.
I sang
O reckless free-hearted
free-throated rythms,
Even the moon remembers them
And is kind to me.
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Song (She Sat And Sang Alway) She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway Beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam, Watching the blossoms of the May Weep leaves into the stream. I wept for memory; She sang for hope that is so […]...
- How a Little Girl Sang Ah, she was music in herself, A symphony of joyousness. She sang, she sang from finger tips, From every tremble of her dress. I saw sweet haunting harmony, An ecstasy, an ecstasy, In that strange curling of her lips, That happy curling of her lips. And quivering with melody Those eyes I saw, that tossing […]...
- A Girl Sang a Song A girl sang a song in the temple’s chorus, About men, tired in alien lands, About the ships that left native shores, And all who forgot their joy to the end. Thus sang her clean voice, and flew up to the highness, And sunbeams shined on her shoulder’s white And everyone saw and heard from […]...
- The Crickets sang The Crickets sang And set the Sun And Workmen finished one by one Their Seam the Day upon. The low Grass loaded with the Dew The Twilight stood, as Strangers do With Hat in Hand, polite and new To stay as if, or go. A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came, A Wisdom, without Face, or […]...
- Sang from the Heart, Sire Sang from the Heart, Sire, Dipped my Beak in it, If the Tune drip too much Have a tint too Red Pardon the Cochineal Suffer the Vermillion Death is the Wealth Of the Poorest Bird. Bear with the Ballad Awkward faltering Death twists the strings ‘Twasn’t my blame Pause in your Liturgies Wait your Chorals […]...
- What the Bullet sang O JOY of creation, To be! O rapture, to fly And be free! Be the battle lost or won, Though its smoke shall hide the sun, I shall find my love the one Born for me! I shall know him where he stands All alone, With the power in his hands Not o’erthrown; I shall […]...
- Dream Song 41: If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert) If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert) While snows flies, chill, after so frequent knew So many all nothing, For lead & fire, it’s not we would assert Particulars, but animal; cats mew, Horses scream, man sing. Or: men pslam. Man palms his ears and moans. Death is a German […]...
- They Will Say OF my city the worst that men will ever say is this: You took little children away from the sun and the dew, And the glimmers that played in the grass under the great sky, And the reckless rain; you put them between walls To work, broken and smothered, for bread and wages, To eat […]...
- The wanderer Upon a mountain height, far from the sea, I found a shell, And to my listening ear the lonely thing Ever a song of ocean seemed to sing, Ever a tale of ocean seemed to tell. How came the shell upon that mountain height? Ah, who can say Whether there dropped by some too careless […]...
- The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
- The Fountain Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone; It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone. The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard. The fountain sang and sang And on the marble rim The milk-white peacocks […]...
- The Late Sir John Ogilvy Alas! Sir John Ogilvy is dead, aged eighty-seven, But I hope his soul is now in heaven; For he was a generous-hearted gentleman I am sure, And, in particular, very kind unto the poor. He was a Christian gentleman in every degree, And, for many years, was an M. P. for Bonnie Dundee, And, while […]...
- Margaret Many birds and the beating of wings Make a flinging reckless hum In the early morning at the rocks Above the blue pool Where the gray shadows swim lazy. In your blue eyes, O reckless child, I saw today many little wild wishes, Eager as the great morning....
- The Three Songs The poet sang of a battle-field Where doughty deeds were done, Where stout blows rang on helm and shield And a kingdom’s fate was spun With the scarlet thread of victory, And honor from death’s grim revelry Like a flame-red flower was won! So bravely he sang that all who heard With the sting of […]...
- Music Swims Back To Me Wait Mister. Which way is home? They turned the light out And the dark is moving in the corner. There are no sign posts in this room, Four ladies, over eighty, In diapers every one of them. La la la, Oh music swims back to me And I can feel the tune they played The […]...
- Everyone Sang Everyone suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on on and out of sight. Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted […]...
- On The Breakwater On the breakwater in the summer dark, a man and a girl are sitting, She across his knee and they are looking face into face Talking to each other without words, singing rythms in silence to each other. A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out- going boat, Playing its searchlight, puzzled, […]...
- River And Sea Under the light of the silver moon We two sat, when our hearts were young; The night was warm with the breath of June, And loud from the meadow the cricket sung, And darker and deeper, oh, love, than the sea, Were your dear eyes, as they beamed to me. The moon hung clear, and […]...
- Under the Harvest Moon Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers. Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With […]...
- Faun Here down this very way, Here only yesterday King Faun went leaping. He sang, with careless shout Hurling his name about; He sang, with oaken stock His steps from rock to rock In safety keeping, “Here Faun is free, Here Faun is free!” Today against yon pine, Forlorn yet still divine, King Faun leant weeping. […]...
- THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT Loud he sang the psalm of David! He, a Negro and enslaved, Sang of Israel’s victory, Sang of Zion, bright and free. In that hour, when night is calmest, Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist, In a voice so sweet and clear That I could not choose but hear, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, Such […]...
- The Fury Of Guitars And Sopranos This singing Is a kind of dying, A kind of birth, A votive candle. I have a dream-mother Who sings with her guitar, Nursing the bedroom With a moonlight and beautiful olives. A flute came too, Joining the five strings, A God finger over the holes. I knew a beautiful woman once Who sang with […]...
- Shenandoah IN the Shenandoah Valley, one rider gray and one rider blue, and the sun on the riders wondering. Piled in the Shenandoah, riders blue and riders gray, piled with shovels, one and another, dust in the Shenandoah taking them quicker than mothers take children done with play. The blue nobody remembers, the gray nobody remembers, […]...
- Les Silhouettes The sea is flecked with bars of grey, The dull dead wind is out of tune, And like a withered leaf the moon Is blown across the stormy bay. Etched clear upon the pallid sand Lies the black boat: a sailor boy Clambers aboard in careless joy With laughing face and gleaming hand. And overhead […]...
- The Superseded I As newer comers crowd the fore, We drop behind. – We who have laboured long and sore Times out of mind, And keen are yet, must not regret To drop behind. II Yet there are of us some who grieve To go behind; Staunch, strenuous souls who scarce believe Their fires declined, And know […]...
- Salute Past is past, and if one Remembers what one meant To do and never did, is Not to have thought to do Enough? Like that gather- Ing of one each I Planned, to gather one Of each kind of clover, Daisy, paintbrush that Grew in that field The cabin stood in and Study them one […]...
- Cruisers As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine, Made play for her bully the Ship of the Line; So we, her bold daughters by iron and fire, Accost and decoy to our masters’ desire. Now, pray you, consider what toils we endure, Night-walking wet sea-lanes, a guard and a lure; Since half of our trade […]...
- Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
- 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
- What Semiramis Said THE moon’s a steaming chalice, Of honey and venom-wine. A little of it sipped by night Makes the long hours divine. But oh, my reckless lovers, They drain the cup and wail, Die at my feet with shaking limbs And tender lips all pale. Above them in the sky it bends Empty and gray and […]...
- In Tall Grass BEES and a honeycomb in the dried head of a horse in a pasture corner-a skull in the tall grass and a buzz and a buzz of the yellow honey-hunters. And I ask no better a winding sheet (over the earth and under the sun.) Let the bees go honey-hunting with yellow blur of wings […]...
- Lost “He ought to be home,” said the old man, “without there’s something amiss. He only went to the Two-mile he ought to be back by this. He would ride the Reckless filly, he would have his wilful way; And, here, he’s not back at sundown and what will his mother say? “He was always his […]...
- Frogs in chorus The chorus frogs in the big lagoon Would sing their songs to the silvery moon. Tenor singers were out of place, For every frog was a double bass. But never a human chorus yet Could beat the accurate time they set. The solo singer began the joke; He sang, “As long as I live I’ll […]...
- Sonnet 10: For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any For shame, deny that thou bear’st love to any Who for thy self art so unprovident. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, But that thou none lov’st is most evident; For thou art so possessed with murd’rous hate, That ‘gainst thy self thou stick’st not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to […]...
- Fire Dreams 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, […]...
- THE COY ONE ONE Spring-morning bright and fair, Roam’d a shepherdess and sang; Young and beauteous, free from care, Through the fields her clear notes rang: So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c. Of his lambs some two or three Thyrsis offer’d for a kiss; First she eyed him roguishly, Then for answer sang but this: So, Ia, Ia! […]...
- Dream Song 71: Spellbound held subtle Henry all his four Spellbound held subtle Henry all his four Hearers in the racket of the market With ancient signs, infamous characters, New rythms. On the steps he was beloved, Hours a day, by all his four, or more, Depending. And they paid him. It was not, so, like no one listening But critics famed & Henry’s pals […]...
- A Fixed Idea What torture lurks within a single thought When grown too constant, and however kind, However welcome still, the weary mind Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly; unsought The old delight is with us but to find That all recurring joy is pain refined, Become a habit, and we struggle, caught. You […]...
- Dynamiter I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon Eating steak and onions. And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children And the cause of labor and the working class. It was laughter of an unshakable man knowing life to be A rich and red-blooded thing. Yes, his laugh rang […]...
- The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...