Troths

Carl Sandburg

Yellow dust on a bumble
     bee’s wing,
Grey lights in a woman’s
     asking eyes,
Red ruins in the changing
     sunset embers:
I take you and pile high
     the memories.
Death will break her claws
     on some I keep.

Next 10 Poems

• Carl Sandburg : Two
• Carl Sandburg : Two Neighbors
• Carl Sandburg : Under
• Carl Sandburg : Under A Hat Rim
• Carl Sandburg : Under A Telephone Pole
• Carl Sandburg : Under The Harvest Moon
• Carl Sandburg : Uplands In May
• Carl Sandburg : Valley Song
• Carl Sandburg : Waiting
• Carl Sandburg : Wars

Previous 10 Poems

• Carl Sandburg : Trafficker
• Carl Sandburg : To Certain Journeymen
• Carl Sandburg : To Beachey, 1912
• Carl Sandburg : To A Dead Man
• Carl Sandburg : To A Contemporary Bunkshooter
• Carl Sandburg : They Will Say
• Carl Sandburg : Theme In Yellow
• Carl Sandburg : The Walking Man Of Rodin
• Carl Sandburg : The Shovel Man
• Carl Sandburg : The Road And The End