At A Window

Carl Sandburg | Jan 1878–Jul 1967 | American

GIVE me hunger,
O you gods that sit and give
The world its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want;
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger.

But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day and,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering western star
Thrust cut from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk.
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.