“All my life‚” says CARL SANDBURG, ”I have been trying to learn to read, to see and hear, and to write. . . . At fifty, there was puzzlement as to whether I was a poet, a biographer, a wandering troubadour with a guitar, a Midwest Hans Christian Andersen, or a historian of current events.”Now, at seventy-two, Mr. Sandburg’s Complete Poems are to be published by Harcourt‚ Brace‚ and as he looked back over the long, dear toil of those poems, he wrote this essay as the preface for his new book.
“Poets cry their hearts out. If they don’t they ain’t poets.”