Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg

HarvestMoonUnder the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

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About Gandalfe

Just an itinerant saxophonist trying to find life between the changes. I have retired from the Corps of Engineers and Microsoft. I am an admin on the Woodwind Forum, run the Microsoft Jumpin' Jive Orchestra, and enjoy time with family and friends.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Under the Harvest Moon by Carl Sandburg

  1. Walt says:

    It makes me angry. I recognize his powerful name. I understand the words. I don’t GET the poem. It doesn’t move me and I feel like it’s my failure.

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