The Red Son
I love your faces I saw the many yearsI drank your milk and filled my mouthWith your home talk, slept in your houseAnd was one of you.But a fire burns in my heart.Under the ribs where pulses thudAnd flitting between bones of skullIs the push, the endless mysterious command,Saying:“I leave you behind—You for the little hills and the years all alike,You with your patient cows and old housesProtected from the rain,I am going away and I never come back to you;Crags and high rough places call me,Great places of deathWhere men go empty handedAnd pass over smilingTo the star-drift on the horizon rim.My last whisper shall be alone, unknown;I shall go to the city and fight against it,And make it give me passwordsOf luck and love, women worth dying for,And money.I go where you wist not ofNor I nor any man nor woman.I only know I go to stormsGrappling against things wet and naked.”There is no pity of it and no blame.None of us is in the wrong.After all it is only this:You for the little hills and I go away.
Words in this poem
- drank n.
- Wild oats, or darnel grass. See Drake a plant. [Cf. 3d Drake.]
- flitting n.
- A flying with lightness and celerity; a fluttering.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Red Son is in the public domain. This text is taken from Chicago Poems, Wikisource; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Carl Sandburg, The Red Son, in Chicago Poems (1916), text of Wikisource, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sandburg-chicago-poems/the-red-son.html, id L28991.
Form and metre
The Red Son is 32 lines in a single stanza.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I love your faces I saw the many years | 11 | ···/˘···/˘· |
| I drank your milk and filled my mouth | 8 | ········ |
| With your home talk, slept in your house | 8 | ········ |
| And was one of you. | 5 | ····· |
| But a fire burns in my heart. | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Under the ribs where pulses thud | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And flitting between bones of skull | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Is the push, the endless mysterious command, | 12 | ····/˘˘/˘˘˘/ |
| Saying: | 2 | /˘ |
| “I leave you behind— | 5 | ····· |
| You for the little hills and the years all alike, | 12 | ···/˘·····˘/ |
| You with your patient cows and old houses | 10 | ···/˘···/˘ |
| Protected from the rain, | 6 | ˘/˘··· |
| I am going away and I never come back to you; | 14 | ··/˘˘/··/˘···· |
| Crags and high rough places call me, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Great places of death | 5 | ·/˘·· |
| Where men go empty handed | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| And pass over smiling | 6 | ····/˘ |
| To the star-drift on the horizon rim. | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| My last whisper shall be alone, unknown; | 10 | ··/˘··˘/˘/ |
| I shall go to the city and fight against it, | 12 | ·····/˘····· |
| And make it give me passwords | 7 | ·····/· |
| Of luck and love, women worth dying for, | 10 | ····/˘·/˘· |
| And money. | 3 | ·/˘ |
| I go where you wist not of | 7 | ······· |
| Nor I nor any man nor woman. | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| I only know I go to storms | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Grappling against things wet and naked.” | 9 | /˘·····/˘ |
| There is no pity of it and no blame. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| None of us is in the wrong. | 7 | ······· |
| After all it is only this: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| You for the little hills and I go away. | 11 | ···/˘····˘/ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.