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Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper
  sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
  new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
  and the old things go, not one lasts.

Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Second Book of Modern Verse | 1919

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Tags, sometimes called “folksonomies,” are words that describe or categorize a poem, like “20th century modernism” or “Italian sonnet”. Tags can help you find poems that have something in common, based on how other people classify them.

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