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Old-fashioned Requited Love

by Carl Sandburg, 1920

I have ransacked the encyclopedias
 And slid my fingers among topics and titles
 Looking for you.

 And the answer comes slow.
 There seems to be no answer.

 I shall ask the next banana peddler the who and the why of it.

 Or—the iceman with his iron tongs gripping a clear cube in summer sunlight—maybe he will know.

Published in Smoke and Steel

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.