Verse > Carl Sandburg > Chicago Poems
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Carl Sandburg (1878–1967).  Chicago Poems.  1916.
 
134. The Noon Hour
 
 
SHE sits in the dust at the walls
  And makes cigars,
Bending at the bench
With fingers wage-anxious,
Changing her sweat for the day’s pay.        5
 
Now the noon hour has come,
And she leans with her bare arms
On the window-sill over the river,
Leans and feels at her throat
Cool-moving things out of the free open ways:        10
 
At her throat and eyes and nostrils
The touch and the blowing cool
Of great free ways beyond the walls.
 

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