Movement 1

Out of the window.....prairielands           SOUND.jpg (914 bytes) MP3 Player Required for Audio Samples
                                                                           
Click for audio

Download Copy of realsml.gif (1309 bytes)   Copy of jukesml.gif (1312 bytes) 

Interior                                     

In the cool of the night time                                       Mutters "You" and "You"
The clocks pick off the points                                  To things hidden
And the mainsprings loosen.                                      In the cool of the night time,
They will need winding.                                                 In Rabelais, Whitman, Hugo,
One of these days                                                           In an oblong of moon mist.
          they will need winding.                               10bulm.gif (991 bytes) Out of the window . . . . prairielands.
Rabelais in red boards,                                                 Moon mist whitens a golf ground.
Walt Whitman in green,                                                Whiter yet is a limestone quarry.
Hugo in ten-cent paper covers,                                The crickets keep on chirring.
Here they stand on shelves                                        Switch engines of the Great Western
In the cool of the night time                              Sidetrack box cars, make up trains
And there is nothing....                                      For Weehawken, Oskaloosa, Saskatchewan;
To be said against them....                                The cattle, the coal, the corn, must go
Or for them....                                                    In the night .... on the prairielands.
In the cool of the night time                              Chuff-chuff go the pulses.
And the docks.                                                   They beat in the cool of the night time.                                
A man in pigeon-gray pajamas.                         Chuff-chuff and chuff-chuff ....
The open window begins at his feet                  These heartbeats travel the night a mile
And goes taller than his head.                           And touch the moon silver at the window
Eight feet high is the pattern.                            And the hones of the man.
Moon and mist make an oblong layout.            It costs nothing.
Silver at the man's bare feet.                            Rabelais in red boards,
He swings one foot in a moon silver.                Whitman in green,
And it costs nothing.                                           Hugo in ten-cent paper covers,
One more day of bread and work.                     Here they stand on shelves
One more day....so much rags.                          In the cool of the night time
The man barefoot in moon silver                      And the clocks.
                                     
                                            - from Cornhuskers (1918) Carl Sandburg

aswoosh.gif (11105 bytes)

Movement II

Why does a hearse horse snicker hauling a lawyer away?      SOUND.jpg (914 bytes)
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The Lawyers Know Too Much

The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
      The lawyers know
      a dead man's thought too well.

In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too many hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.

      When the lawyers are through
      What is there left, Bob?
      Can a mouse nibble at it
      And find it enough to fasten a tooth in?

      Why is there always a secret singing
      When a lawyer cashes in?
10bulm.gif (991 bytes) Why does a hearse horse snicker
                   Hauling a lawyer away?

The work of the bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
      Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
      Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers --tell me why a hearse horse snickers
      hauling a lawyer's bones.

                                                    Carl Sandburg

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Movement III

The whistle of a boat                       SOUND.jpg (914 bytes)
Calls and cries unendingly,    Click for audio

Lost

     Desolate and lone
     All night long on the lake
     Where fog trails and mist creeps,
10bulm.gif (991 bytes) The whistle of a boat
     Calls and cries unendingly,
     Like some lost child
     In tears and trouble
     Hunting the harbor's breast
     And the harbor's eyes.

                 - from Chicago Poems (1916) Carl Sandburg

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Movement IV

The cartoonists weep in their beer.     SOUND.jpg (914 bytes)
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Honky Tonk in Cleveland, Ohio

      It's a jazz affair, drum clashes and coronet razzes.
      The trombone pony neighs and the tuba jackass snorts.
      The banjo tickles and titters too awful.
      The chippies talk about the funnies in the papers.
10bulm.gif (991 bytes)  The cartoonists weep in their beer.
      Shop riveters talk with their feet
      To the feet of floozies under the tables.
      A quartet of white hopes mourn with interspersed snickers:
                         "I got the blues.
                           I got the blues.
                           I got the blues."
      And . . . as we said earlier:
      The cartoonists weep in their beer.                      
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                                from Smoke and Steel (1920)  Carl Sandburg                                                      

 

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