The Great Hunt

Carl Sandburg

I cannot tell you now;
   When the wind's drive and whirl
   Blow me along no longer,
   And the wind's a whisper at last —
Maybe I'll tell you then —
                            some other time.
   When the rose's flash to the sunset
   Reels to the wrack and the twist,
   And the rose is a red bygone,
   When the face I love is going
   And the gate to the end shall clang,
   And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long" —
Maybe I'll tell you then —
                            some other time.
I never knew any more beautiful than you:
   I have hunted you under my thoughts,
   I have broken down under the wind
   And into the roses looking for you.
    I shall never find any
                           greater than you.


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