Carl Sandberg

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work –
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysberg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

6 thoughts on “Grass

  1. Has made me shiver ever since I heard it recited in our english class in high-school (almost 20 years ago !!!)

  2. Currenty we’re talking about this poem in english class. It’s my favorite. It says more than it seems.

  3. Here in NZL grass grows and grows and…
    This poem evokes evil and deadly things aplenty but for me it also has its healing restoring productive side and therefore my grateful side.. Tom Rogerson

  4. I’ve just completed a series of six small paintings of a rehearsal beach for D-Day in western Devon, England. !n 1944, about five hundred allied soldiers were killed by friendly fire. It was a state secret for fifty years. I happened to be there shortly after 9/11. I thought of this poem. My paintings are of the wind blown dunes covered in grass – forever there, straight off the Atlantic. I’ll try to post them. It reminds me of my coming of age with the folk song “Where Have All The Flowers Gone”. Surely this past administration never heard it. Thanks

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