Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Happy poetry of love and real life in 1916

I wish to God I never saw you, Mag.
I wish you never quit your job and came along with me.
I wish we never bought a license and a white dress
For you to get married in the day we ran off to a minister
And told him we would love each other and take care of each other
Always and always long as the sun and the rain lasts anywhere.
Yes, I'm wishing now you lived somewhere away from here
And I was a bum on the bumpers a thousand miles away dead broke.
I wish the kids had never come
And rent and coal and clothes to pay for
And a grocery man calling for cash.
Every day cash for beans and prunes.
I wish to God I never saw you, Mag.
I with to God the kids had never come.

—Carl Sandburg


  1. Replies
    1. Many bitter people who frequent pubs speak with sarcasm. It's the British humor. Sarcasm. Ok, Sandburg wasn't British, but I'll bet Mag was!

    2. I thought it was many people go to pubs to drink bitter, not many bitter people frequent pubs.

  2. Methinks so too, Caroline!

    If that's "happy", I'd hate to read "sad"!

    1. You need to read Sandburg, Lee. He's the best. Not all his poems are so morose.

      Now, here's morose:

      "There's never a stone at the sleeper's head,
      There's never a fence beside,
      And the wandering stock on the grave may tread
      Unnoticed and undenied,
      But the smallest child on the Watershed
      Can tell you how Gilbert died."
      —Banjo Paterson

    2. I shall, RM...I'll go in search of him. Thanks for the heads' up! :)


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