PQR: Poems, Quotes, Readings


by Carl Sandburg

Once when I saw a cripple
Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague,
Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air,
Desperately gesturing with wasted hands
In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum,
I said to myself
I would rather have been a tall sunflower
Living in a country garden
Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer,
Rain-washed and dew-misted,
Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks,
And wonderingly watching night after night
The clear silent processionals of stars.

Sandburg, Carl. "Cripple." Chicago Poems. NY: Henry Holt & Co., (c)1916. URL: gopher://wiretap.spies.com:70/00/Library/Classic/chicago.txt

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Last Update: September 15, 2002