Grass
PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.
And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?
I am the grass.
Let me work.
Poem by
Carl Sandburg
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Carl Sandburg
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Grass
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Grass here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.