| Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916. |
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| 26. Cripple |
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| ONCE when I saw a cripple | |
| Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, | |
| Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, | |
| Desperately gesturing with wasted hands | |
| In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, | 5 |
| I said to myself | |
| I would rather have been a tall sunflower | |
| Living in a country garden | |
| Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer, | |
| Rain-washed and dew-misted, | 10 |
| Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks, | |
| And wonderingly watching night after night | |
| The clear silent processionals of stars. | |
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