Love, with little hands, comes and touches you with a thousand memories, and asks you beautiful, unanswerable questions
The soft silver drips shimmering over the garden nights
Under the Harvest Moon
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.by Carl Sandburg
(January 6, 1878 – July 22, 1967)
from Under the Harvest Moon
February 5th, 2009 at 6:25 pm
Sweet thought — that of love, despite the appearance of small size, carries with it such strength.
February 5th, 2009 at 7:56 pm
I like that the questions are beautiful and unanswerable.
This poem reminds me to feel peaceful, and to trust.