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Poem - "The Noon Hour" by Carl Sandburg

Tags: noon carl
"The Noon Hour" 
by Carl Sandburg

SHE sits in the dust at the walls

And makes cigars,
Bending at the bench
With fingers wage-anxious,
Changing her sweat for the day's pay.

Now the Noon hour has come,

And she leans with her bare arms
On the window-sill over the river,
Leans and feels at her throat
Cool-moving things out of the free open ways:

At her throat and eyes and nostrils

The touch and the blowing cool
Of great free ways beyond the walls.

This post first appeared on P&FQ - Poetry And Fascinating Quotes, please read the originial post: here

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Poem - "The Noon Hour" by Carl Sandburg


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