Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

"A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence, but doesn't climb over it."

 Brock Y

 Evan W

"Love your neighbor as yourself; but don't take down the fence."

... Carl Sandburg

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Threes by Carl Sandburg

I was a boy when I heard three red words 

a thousand Frenchmen died in the streets 

for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity--I asked 

why men die for words.

I was older; men with mustaches, sideburns, 

lilacs, told me the high golden words are: 

Mother, Home, and Heaven--other older men with 

face decorations said: God, Duty, Immortality 

--they sang these threes slow from deep lungs.

Years ticked off their say-so on the great clocks 

of doom and damnation, soup, and nuts: meteors flashed 

their say-so: and out of great Russia came three 

dusky syllables workmen took guns and went out to die 

for: Bread, Peace, Land.

And I met a marine of the U.S.A., a leatherneck with a girl on his knee 

for a memory in ports circling the earth and he said: Tell me how to say 

three things and I always get by--gimme a plate of ham and eggs--how 

much--and--do you love me, kid?

Poem Source

Shirt - Carl Sandburg

My shirt is a token and symbol, 

more than a cover for sun and rain,

my shirt is a signal, 

and a teller of souls.

I can take off my shirt and tear it, 

and so make a ripping razzly noise,

and the people will say, 

"Look at him tear his shirt."

I can keep my shirt on. 

I can stick around and sing like a little bird

and look 'em all in the eye and never be fazed. 

I can keep my shirt on.

At A Window - Carl Sandburg

Give me hunger, 

O you gods that sit and give 

The world its orders.

Give me hunger, pain and want, 

Shut me out with shame and failure 

From your doors of gold and fame, 

Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!

But leave me a little love, 

A voice to speak to me in the day end,

A hand to touch me in the dark room 

Breaking the long loneliness.

In the dusk of day-shapes 

Blurring the sunset, 

One little wandering, western star 

Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.

Let me go to the window, 

Watch there the day-shapes of dusk 

And wait and know the coming 

Of a little love.