| Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916. |
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| 45. Style |
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| STYLE—go ahead talking about style. | |
| You can tell where a man gets his style just as you can tell where Pavlowa got her legs or Ty Cobb his batting eye. | |
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| Go on talking. | |
| Only don’t take my style away. | |
| It’s my face. | 5 |
| Maybe no good | |
| but anyway, my face. | |
| I talk with it, I sing with it, I see, taste and feel with it, I know why I want to keep it. | |
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| Kill my style | |
| and you break Pavlowa’s legs, | 10 |
| and you blind Ty Cobb’s batting eye. | |
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