After ten hours of shoveling gravel in midsummer heat, thirty-two Greek laborers stop at a creek and let the clear water run over their tired feet. Sandburg follows them through the rest of the evening: a simple meal of mulligan and prune sauce in the bunk cars, a pipe or two under the stars, and rough, travel-worn stories about men, women, countries, and railroads. The speaker regards these workers with quiet affection and respect. There is no grand statement here—just the earned relief of cool water, the ease of familiar company, and the deep, childlike sleep that follows hard physical work. The tone is plain and unsentimental, but the mood is calm, almost tender, and quietly dignified.
Near Keokuk — Summary
Thirty-two Greeks are dipping their feet in a creek. Sloshing their bare feet in a cool flow of clear water. All one midsummer day ten hours the Greeks stand in leather shoes shoveling gravel. Now they hold their toes and ankles to the drift of running water. Then they go to the bunk cars and eat mulligan and prune sauce. Smoke one or two pipefuls, look at the stars, tell smutty stories About men and women they have known, countries they have seen, Railroads they have built — and then the deep sleep of children.