Carl Sandburg, where have you been all my life?


Under the Harvest Moon
by
Carl Sandburg
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

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About Janis Alanis

Thinker, BS detector, champion of Reason. Unafraid. Ticked off, and riled up. View all posts by Janis Alanis

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