FOR the second time in a year this lady with the white hands is brought to the west room second floor of a famous sanatorium.
Her husband is a cornice manufacturer in an Iowa town and the lady has often read papers on Victorian poets before the local
literary club.
Yesterday she washed her hands forty seven times during her waking hours and in her sleep moaned restlessly attempting to
clean imaginary soiled spots off her hands.
Now the head physician touches his chin with a crooked forefinger.

Poet: Carl Sandburg
Poem: 9. White Hands
Volume: Smoke and Steel
- VIII. Circles of Doors
Year: Published/Written in 1922

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, White Hands, has received one comment so far. Click here to read it, and perhaps post a comment of your own.