Carl Sandburg Poems
Fog
THE fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Poet: Carl Sandburg rating:  The Harbor
PASSING through huddled and ugly walls
By doorways where women
Looked from their hunger-deep eyes,
Haunted with shadows of hunger-hands,
Out from the huddled and ugly walls,
I came sudden, at the... more
Poet: Carl Sandburg rating: Humdrum
IF I had a million lives to live
and a million deaths to die
in a million humdrum worlds,
I'd like to change my name
and have a new house number to go by
each and every time I... more
Poet: Carl Sandburg rating:
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