Carl Sandburg presents two very different recipes for happiness. One comes from Omar Khayam, linked here with wine—the “red stuff”—and vivid present-day noise such as songs, gossip, and fights. It is a way of drowning out yesterday and tomorrow by living hard in the moment. The other comes from Louis Cornaro, whose “slim trick” of tiny, slow meals and careful years tries to keep death at arm’s length. The speaker has a neighbor devoted to each approach, and both neighbors are happy. Neither the wild drinker nor the careful eater seems to have the upper hand. The speaker feels the pull of both “eternities” but refuses to surrender to either, saying simply, “Let them look.” Sandburg doesn’t mock either neighbor; he seems to enjoy the contrast. The mood is wry, tolerant, and a little detached—an amused shrug at the big choices that shape a life.
Two Neighbors — Summary
Faces of two eternities keep looking at me. One is Omar Khayam and the red stuff wherein men forget yesterday and to-morrow and remember only the voices and songs, the stories, newspapers and fights of today. One is Louis Cornaro and a slim trick of slow, short meals across slow, short years, letting Death open the door only in slow, short inches.
I have a neighbor who swears by Omar. I have a neighbor who swears by Cornaro. Both are happy.
Faces of two eternities keep looking at me. Let them look.