Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
Carl SandburgI have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
Carl SandburgI make it clear why I write as I do and why other poets write as they do. After hundreds of experiments I decided to go my own way in style and see what would happen.
Carl Sandburg