A Sphinx

Carl Sandburg

Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never
     let out a whisper.
Processions came by, marchers, asking questions you
     answered with grey eyes never blinking, shut lips
     never talking.
Not one croak of anything you know has come from your
     cat crouch of ages.
I am one of those who know all you know and I keep my
     questions: I know the answers you hold.

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day