Agatha, a woman far past forty, sits under a shagbark hickory tree and says she once knew "a real man." The speaker observes her with tenderness, not judgment, and wonders whether a man kissed her, held her, or only glanced at her and walked away. Those unanswered questions give the poem its quiet tension. What matters is not what happened, but the glow the memory gives her. Sandburg repeats "splendor," so Agatha comes across as dignified rather than pitiful, even if her great moment may have been small or brief. The hickory tree’s splendor becomes part of her own remembered splendor. We never learn what actually happened, and that privacy feels deliberate. The mood is wistful, tender, and slightly lonely. The title "Plaster" suggests something preserved or set around an old impression, like a cast. Agatha has built a lasting image from whatever happened long ago, and the poem leaves us suspended between memory and longing.
Plaster — Summary
" I KNEW a real man once," says Agatha in the splendor of a shagbark hickory tree. Did a man touch his lips to Agatha? Did a man hold her in his arms? Did a man only look at her and pass by? Agatha, far past forty in a splendor of remembrance, says, " I knew a real man once."