Carl Sandburg’s speaker recalls a wild evening by the sea, with high waves breaking against the walls and the wind carrying cups of foam. Landbirds, old men in shanties, and young men talking about girls all become witnesses to the storm. When the wind dies down and the moon rises, the speaker admits how hard it is to describe the sunset that appeared in between. Instead of explaining it, he offers the raw elements themselves: fire, water, and the scooping, mixing wind. The mood is restless and watchful at first, then slows into something quieter and almost sorrowful. The speaker feels awe before nature’s force, but also a humble awareness that some moments resist language. He can only hand over the ingredients that made the evening feel enormous and strange.
How Yesterday Looked — Summary
The high horses of the sea broke their white riders On the walls that held and counted the hours The wind lasted. Two landbirds looked on and the north and the east Looked on and the wind poured cups of foam And the evening began. The old men in the shanties looked on and lit their Pipes and the young men spoke of the girls For a wild night like this. The south and the west looked on and the moon came When the wind went down and the sea was sorry And the singing slow. Ask how the sunset looked between the wind going Down and the moon coming up and I would struggle To tell the how of it. I give you fire here, I give you water, I give you The wind that blew them across and across, The scooping, mixing wind.