Poem by Carl Sandburg

Threes

I was a boy when I heaid three red words
a thousand Frenchmen died in the streets
for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity-I asked
why men die Jor woêds.

I was older; men with mustaches, sideburns
lilacs, told me the high golden words are: 
Mother, Home and Heaven-other older men with
face decorations said: God, Duty, Immortality
-they sang these threes slow from deep lungs.

Years ticked off their say-so on the great clocks
of doom and damnation, soup and nuts: meteors flashed
their say-so: and out of great Russia came three
dusky syllables workmen took guns and went out to die
for: Bread, Peace, Land.

And I met a marine of the U.S.A., a leatherneck with
a girl on his knee for a memory in ports circling the
earth and he said: tell me how to say three things
and I always get by-gimme a plate of ham and eggs-
how much?-and-do you love me, kid?

1. Chicago Poet
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3. Chicago
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