Poem by Carl Sandburg

Summer Grass

Summer grass aches and whispers.

It wants something; it calls and sings; it pours
       out wishes to the overhead stars.

The rain hears; the rain answers; the rain is slow 
        coming; the rain wets the face of the grass.

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

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