Carl Sandburg: Stephen Crane

Carl_Sandburg_NYWTS

Before fame came to him he was scornful of it.
After fame arrived he was still scornful of it.
He asked himself how shall men of facts deal with poems,
and how shall men of poems deal with facts?
In London his woman filled fourteen cob pipes
with tobacco and stood them in a row on his
writing table each morning.
The day’s work was done and it was time to quit
when the last pipe was smoked.
He died far on a blue star hunting the answer
why steel is steel and mist is mist.

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Sandburg (like me) was a fan of Crane. This is one of Sandburg’s best character study poems, I think.

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