I DON’T blame the kettle drums-they are hungry.
And the snare drums-I know what they want-they are empty too.
And the harring booming bass drums-they are hungriest of all.. . .
The howling spears of the Northwest die down.
The lullabies of the Southwest get a chance, a mother song.
A cradle moon rides out of a torn hole in the ragbag top of the sky.
(Carl Sandburg)
More Poetry from Carl Sandburg:
Carl Sandburg Poems based on Topics: Mothers, Chance- And This Will Be All.... (Carl Sandburg Poems)
- And So To-Day (Carl Sandburg Poems)
- To A Contemporary (Carl Sandburg Poems)
- A Father To His Son (Carl Sandburg Poems)
- Arithmetic (Carl Sandburg Poems)
- California City Landscape (Carl Sandburg Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Mothers Poems, Chance PoemsBased on Keywords: lullabies, southwest, northwest, hungriest, ragbag