torsdag 24 november 2016

Fire Dreams

(Written to be read aloud, if so be, Thanksgiving Day) 
I remember here by the fire, 
In the flickering reds and saffrons, 
They came in a ramshackle tub, 
Pilgrims in tall hats, 
Pilgrims of iron jaws, 
Drifting by weeks on beaten seas, 
And the random chapters say 
They were glad and sang to God. 

And so 
Since the iron-jawed men sat down 
And said, "Thanks, O God," 
For life and soup and a little less 
Than a hobo handout to-day, 
Since gray winds blew gray patterns of sleet on Plymouth Rock, 
Since the iron-jawed men sang "Thanks, O God," 
You and I, O Child of the West, 
Remember more than ever 
November and the hunter's moon, 
November and the yellow-spotted hills. 

And so 
In the name of the iron-jawed men 
I will stand up and say yes till the finish is come and gone. 
God of all broken hearts, empty hands, sleeping soldiers, 
God of all star-flung beaches of night sky, 
I and my love-child stand up together to-day and sing: "Thanks, O God."
                                                             Carl Sandburg (1918)

2 kommentarer:

  1. jag tycker väldigt mycket om sandburg.
    hoppas att du haft en fin thanksgiving, och att din paj var god! för någon kalkon har du väl inte fått? men kanske stuffing?

    1. Debbie,
      pajen var god, fast den kundre ha varit bättre kryddad.
      Nej jag brydde mig inte om någon fyllning, fast någonstans har jag ett bra recept.
      Ja, Sandburg är fin - jag gillar hans "Rootabaga Stories".