Poem by Carl Sandburg

A Sphinx

Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never
    let out a whisper.
Processions came by, marchers, asking questions you
    answered with grey eyes never blinking, shut lips
    never talking.
Not one croak of anything you know has come from your
    cat crouch of ages.
I am one of those who know all you know and I keep my
    questions: I know the answers you hold.

1. Follies
2. Prayers after World War
3. A Father to His Son
4. Ready to Kill
5. Wars

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