Read more poems by Carl Sandburg: Carl Sandburg Poems at Poetry X.
Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note quivered to the air. (A mother of Bohemia sobs over a new child perfect learning to suck milk.) Your bow ran fast over all the high strings fluttering and wild. (All the girls in Bohemia are laughing on a Sunday afternoon in the hills with their lovers.)
Added: 16 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 2 Mar 2021 8:40 AM | Viewed: 4763 times
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