Back to Index


by Carl Sandburg, 1916

In western fields of corn and northern timber lands,
   They talk about me, a saloon with a soul,
   The soft red lights, the long curving bar,
   The leather seats and dim corners,
   Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cutting ham,
 And the painting of a woman half-dressed thrown reckless across a bed after a night of booze and riots.

Published in Chicago Poems

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