naqsh-e rostam

Among the mountains I wandered and saw blue haze and red crag and was amazed; / On the beach where the long push under the endless tide maneuvers, I stood silent; / Under the stars on the prairie watching the Dipper slant over the horizon’s grass, I was full of thoughts. / Great men, pageants of war and labor, soldiers and workers, mothers lifting their children—these all I touched, and felt the solemn thrill of them. / And then one day I got a true look at the Poor, millions of the Poor, patient and toiling; more patient than crags, tides, and stars; innumerable, patient as the darkness of night—and all broken, humble ruins of nations.
Masses, Carl Sandburg. Chicago Poems, 1916

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