Best Famous Haggling Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Haggling poems. This is a select list of the best famous Haggling poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Haggling poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of haggling poems.

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• All Famous Haggling Poems

Written by Vachel Lindsay | A Curse for Kings A curse upon each king who leads his state, No matter what his plea, to this foul game, And may it end his wicked dynasty, And may he die in exile and black shame. If there is vengeance in the Heaven of Heavens, What punishment could Heaven devise for these Who fill the rivers of the world with dead, And turn their murderers loose on all the seas! Put back the clock of time a thousand years, And make our Europe, once the world's proud Queen, A shrieking strumpet, furious fratricide, Eater of entrails, wallowing obscene In pits where millions foam and rave and bark, Mad dogs and idiots, thrice drunk with strife; While Science towers above;--a witch, red-winged: Science we looked to for the light of life, Curse me the men who make and sell iron ships Who walk the floor in thought, that they may find Each powder prompt, each steel with fearful edge, Each deadliest device against mankind. Curse me the sleek lords with their plumes and spurs, May Heaven give their land to peasant spades, Give them the brand of Cain, for their pride's sake, And felon's stripes for medals and for braids. Curse me the fiddling, twiddling diplomats, Haggling here, plotting and hatching there, Who make the kind world but their game of cards, Till millions die at turning of a hair. What punishment will Heaven devise for these Who win by others' sweat and hardihood, Who make men into stinking vultures' meat, Saying to evil still "Be thou my good"? Ah, he who starts a million souls toward death Should burn in utmost hell a million years! --Mothers of men go on the destined wrack To give them life, with anguish and with tears:-- Are all those childbed sorrows sneered away? Yea, fools laugh at the humble christenings, And cradle-joys are mocked of the fat lords: These mothers' sons made dead men for the Kings! All in the name of this or that grim flag, No angel-flags in all the rag-array-- Banners the demons love, and all Hell sings And plays wild harps. Those flags march forth to-day!

Written by Carl Sandburg | Sunset From Omaha Hotel Window INTO the blue river hills The red sun runners go And the long sand changes And to-day is a goner And to-day is not worth haggling over. Here in Omaha The gloaming is bitter As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand changes. To-day is a goner. Time knocks in another brass nail. Another yellow plunger shoots the dark. Constellations Wheeling over Omaha As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand is gone and all the talk is stars. They circle in a dome over Nebraska.

Written by Carl Sandburg | Population Drifts NEW-MOWN hay smell and wind of the plain made her a woman whose ribs had the power of the hills in them and her hands were tough for work and there was passion for life in her womb. She and her man crossed the ocean and the years that marked their faces saw them haggling with landlords and grocers while six children played on the stones and prowled in the garbage cans. One child coughed its lungs away, two more have adenoids and can neither talk nor run like their mother, one is in jail, two have jobs in a box factory And as they fold the pasteboard, they wonder what the wishing is and the wistful glory in them that flutters faintly when the glimmer of spring comes on the air or the green of summer turns brown: They do not know it is the new-mown hay smell calling and the wind of the plain praying for them to come back and take hold of life again with tough hands and with passion.