They Will Say
Carl Sandburg
Of my city the worst that men will ever say is this: You took little children away from the sun and the dew, And the glimmers that played in the grass under the great sky, And the reckless rain; you put them between walls To work, broken and smothered, for bread and wages, To eat dust in their throats and die empty-hearted For a little handful of pay on a few Saturday nights.
Next 10 Poems
- Carl Sandburg : To A Contemporary Bunkshooter
- Carl Sandburg : To A Dead Man
- Carl Sandburg : To Beachey, 1912
- Carl Sandburg : To Certain Journeymen
- Carl Sandburg : Trafficker
- Carl Sandburg : Troths
- Carl Sandburg : Two
- Carl Sandburg : Two Neighbors
- Carl Sandburg : Under
- Carl Sandburg : Under A Hat Rim
Previous 10 Poems
- Carl Sandburg : Theme In Yellow
- Carl Sandburg : The Walking Man Of Rodin
- Carl Sandburg : The Shovel Man
- Carl Sandburg : The Road And The End
- Carl Sandburg : The Right To Grief
- Carl Sandburg : The Red Son
- Carl Sandburg : The People, Yes
- Carl Sandburg : The Mist
- Carl Sandburg : The Junk Man
- Carl Sandburg : The Has-been