Sandburg - Chicago Poems

You never come back.
I say good-by when I see you going in the doors,
The hopeless open doors that call and wait
And take you then for how many cents a day?
How many cents for the sleepy eyes and fingers?

I say good-by because I know they tap your wrists,
In the dark, in the silence, day by day,
And all the blood of you drop by drop,
And you are old before you are young.
You never come back.

Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner his mouth
That overall factory girl her loose cheeks.

Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.

After their nights sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.

Dust of the feet
And dust of the wheels,
Wagons and people going,
All day feet and wheels.

Now...
... Only stars and mist
A lonely policeman,
Two cabaret dancers,
Stars and mist again,
No more feet or wheels,
No more dust and wagons.

Voices of dollars
And drops of blood
Voices of broken hearts,
... Voices singing, singing,
... Silver voices, singing,
Softer than the stars,
Softer than the mist.

Passers-by,
Out of your many faces
Flash memories to me
Now at the day end
Away from the sidewalks
Where your shoe soles traveled
And your voices rose and blent
To form the citys afternoon roar
Hindering an old silence.

Passers-by,
I remember lean ones among you,
Throats in the clutch of a hope,
Lips written over with strivings,
Mouths that kiss only for love,
Records of great wishes slept with,
Held long
And prayed and toiled for:

Yes,
Written on
Your mouths
And your throats
I read them
When you passed by.