Smoke [1918]
By Carl Sandburg
I sit in a chair and read the newspapers.
Millions of men go to war, acres of them are buried, guns
and ships broken, cities burned, villages sent up in
smoke, and children where cows are killed off amid
hoarse barbecues vanish like finer-rings of smoke
in a north wind.
I sit in a chair and read the newspapers.
No comments:
Post a Comment