Poem by Carl Sandburg

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I wrote a poem on the mist
And a woman asked me what I meant by it.
I had thought till then only of the beauty of the mist,
             how pearl and gray of it mix and reel,
And change the drab shanties with lighted lamps at evening
             into points of mystery quivering with color.

1. Baby Vamps
2. Haunts
3. River Roads
4. Beat, Old Heart
5. Baby Face

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