Favorite Poems – Cool Tombs

by Carl  Sandburg

When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs he forgot
  the copperheads and the assassin . . . in the dust, in the
  cool tombs.

And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street,
  cash and collateral turned ashes . . . in the dust, in the
  cool tombs.

Pocahontas' body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in
  November or a pawpaw in May, did she wonder? does she
  remember? . . . in the dust, in the cool tombs?

Take any streetful of people buying clothes and groceries,
  cheering a hero or throwing confetti and blowing tin
  horns . . . tell me if the lovers are losers . . . tell me if any
  get more than the lovers . . . in the dust . . . in the cool
  tombs.

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