AMONG the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July,
I read your heart in a book.
And your mouth of blue pansy—I know somewhere I have seen it rain-shattered.
And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her naked knees, and her head held there listening to the sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.
And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:
Mother of God, I’m so little a thing,
Let me sing longer,
Only a little longer.
And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling new shapes on the beach sand.
This has been for many years my favourite poem; and after all this time I still tear up when I visit the cemetery at Saranac Lake, which Adelaide overlooked as she wrote some of her poetry.
I love this poem. It is absolutely beautiful, especially when you consider the actual woman Adelaide Crapsey and the respect Sandburg had for her and her work.