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Poet: Carl Sandburg (Carl Sandburg Art)
Poem: 1.
Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind
Volume: Smoke and Steel
- IV. Playthings of the Wind
Year: Published/Written in 1922
Comment 6 of 6, added on November 16th, 2009 at 3:38 PM.
Carl Sandburg and Louis Sullivan
The refrain has stayed with me for fifty years. When I finally refound it today, I couldn't help think of all the architecture in Chicago who meets the wrecking ball held by the WOMAN named To-morrow. Was this Sullivan's Stock Exchange Room which rests now in the Art Institute of Chicago. And where are all the other grand works? "The dust on the sill tells us nothing."
Joanne Henriot from United States
Comment 5 of 6, added on May 17th, 2009 at 9:09 PM.
Even the great poet seems trapped in the meme "civilization". Easy for me to say in 2008, but Spengler was of Sandburg's era. Ruins aren't decipherable? Quite the contrary. They are the most eloquent of instructors. I often wonder if other empires were as myopic as the poem asserts. Even the British had the humility to school their ruling class in antiquity. Our Empire was founded on the immersion in in this inheritance, so quickly eclipsed by money power and now, new trance inducted serfs.
Jack from United States
Comment 4 of 6, added on October 28th, 2007 at 7:35 PM.
I've never believed that the United States would be everlasting, but I also never believed that our position in the world should be thrown away as is being done. The anguish is excruciationg.
Don Gerimonte from United States
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The refrain has stayed with me for fifty years. When I finally refound it today, I couldn't help think of all the architecture in Chicago who meets the wrecking ball held by the WOMAN named To-morrow. Was this Sullivan's Stock Exchange Room which rests now in the Art Institute of Chicago. And where are all the other grand works? "The dust on the sill tells us nothing."
Joanne Henriot from United States