Yet Gentle Will the Griffin Be by Vachel Lindsay
(What Grandpa told the Children) The moon? It is a griffin’s egg, Hatching to-morrow night. And how the little boys will watch With shouting and delight To see him break the shell and stretch And creep across the sky. The boys will laugh. The little girls, I fear, may hide and cry. Yet gentle will […]
Written for a Musician by Vachel Lindsay
HUNGRY for music with a desperate hunger I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town; The evening crowd was clamoring and drinking, Vulgar and pitiful–my heart bowed down– Till I remembered duller hours made noble By strangers clad in some suprising grace. Wait, wait my soul, your music comes ere midnight Appearing in some unexpected […]
Who Knows? by Vachel Lindsay
They say one king is mad. Perhaps. Who knows? They say one king is doddering and grey. They say one king is slack and sick of mind, A puppet for hid strings that twitch and play. Is Europe then to be their sprawling-place? Their mad-house, till it turns the wide world’s bane? Their place of […]
When Bryan Speaks by Vachel Lindsay
When Bryan speaks, the town’s a hive. From miles around, the autos drive. The sparrow chirps. The rooster crows. The place is kicking and alive. When Bryan speaks, the bunting glows. The raw procession onward flows. The small dogs bark. The children laugh A wind of springtime fancy blows. When Bryan speaks, the wigwam shakes. […]
What the Sexton Said by Vachel Lindsay
Your dust will be upon the wind Within some certain years, Though you be sealed in lead to-day Amid the country’s tears. When this idyllic churchyard Becomes the heart of town, The place to build garage or inn, They’ll throw your tombstone down. Your name so dim, so long outworn, Your bones so near to […]
What the Moon Saw by Vachel Lindsay
Two statesmen met by moonlight. Their ease was partly feigned. They glanced about the prairie. Their faces were constrained. In various ways aforetime They had misled the state, Yet did it so politely Their henchmen thought them great. They sat beneath a hedge and spake No word, but had a smoke. A satchel passed from […]
What the Miner in the Desert Said by Vachel Lindsay
The moon’s a brass-hooped water-keg, A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and drink And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the flies Would not be biting so, My burning feet be spry again, My mule no longer slow. And I could rise and dig for ore, And […]
What the Gray-Winged Fairy Said by Vachel Lindsay
The moon’s a gong, hung in the wild, Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear it, child. It takes a FAIRY ear. The full moon is a splendid gong That beats as night grows still. It sounds above the evening song Of dove or whippoorwill. ————— The End And that’s […]
What the Ghost of the Gambler Said by Vachel Lindsay
WHERE now the huts are empty, Where never a camp-fire glows, In an abandoned cañon, A Gambler’s Ghost arose. He muttered there, “The moon’s a sack Of dust.” His voice rose thin: “I wish I knew the miner-man. I’d play, and play to win. In every game in Cripple-creek Of old, when stakes were high, […]
The Soul of the City Receives the Gift of the Holy Spirit by Vachel Lindsay
A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS Censers are swinging, Over the town; Censers are swinging, Look overhead! Censers are swinging, Heaven comes down. City, dead city, Awake from the dead! Censers, tremendous, Gleam overhead. Wind-harps are ringing, Wind-harps unseen— Calling and calling:— “Wake from the dead. Rise, little city, Shine like a queen.” Soldiers of […]
The Scissors-Grinder by Vachel Lindsay
The old man had his box and wheel For grinding knives and shears. No doubt his bell in village streets Was joy to children’s ears. And I bethought me of my youth When such men came around, And times I asked them in, quite sure The scissors should be ground. The old man turned and […]
The Rose of Midnight by Vachel Lindsay
THE moon is now an opening flower, The sky a cliff of blue. The moon is now a silver rose; Her pollen is the dew. Her pollen is the mist that swings Across her face of dreams: Her pollen is the April rain, Filling the April streams. Her pollen is eternal life, Endless ambrosial foam. […]
The Proud Farmer by Vachel Lindsay
[In memory of E. S. Frazee, Rush County, Indiana] Into the acres of the newborn state He poured his strength, and plowed his ancient name, And, when the traders followed him, he stood Towering above their furtive souls and tame. That brow without a stain, that fearless eye Oft left the passing stranger wondering To […]
The Mysterious Cat by Vachel Lindsay
A chant for a children’s pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards. I saw a proud, mysterious cat, I saw a proud, mysterious cat Too proud to catch a mouse or rat— Mew, mew, mew. But catnip she would eat, and purr, But catnip she would eat, and purr. And goldfish […]
The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky by Vachel Lindsay
The Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky. He bites it, day by day, Until there’s but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker. He kneads clouds in his den, And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy North . . . Wind . . . eats […]
The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay
A Recitation for Martha Wakefield, Three Years Old There was a little turtle. He lived in a box. He swam in a puddle. He climbed on the rocks. He snapped at a mosquito. He snapped at a flea. He snapped at a minnow. And he snapped at me. He caught the mosquito. He caught the […]
The Leaden-Eyed by Vachel Lindsay
Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the world’s one crime its babes grow dull, Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden-eyed. Not that they starve; but starve so dreamlessly, Not that they sow, but that they seldom reap, Not that they serve, […]
The Haughty Snail-King by Vachel Lindsay
Twelve snails went walking after night. They’d creep an inch or so, Then stop and bug their eyes And blow. Some folks . . . are . . . deadly . . . slow. Twelve snails went walking yestereve, Led by their fat old king. They were so dull their princeling had No sceptre, robe […]
The Flower of Mending by Vachel Lindsay
(To Eudora, after I had had certain dire adventures.) When Dragon-fly would fix his wings, When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoat Of tender Mister Mouse, The pretty creatures go with haste To the sunlit blue-grass hills Where the Flower of Mending yields the wax And webs to help their […]
The Flower-Fed Buffaloes by Vachel Lindsay
THE flower-fed buffaloes of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prarie flowers lie low: The tossing, blooming, perfumed grass Is swept away by wheat, Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left […]
The Fairy Bridal-Hymn by Vachel Lindsay
[This is the hymn to Eleanor, daughter of Mab and a golden drone, sung by the Locust choir when the fairy child marries her God, the yellow rose] This is a song to the white-armed one Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring, Whose feet are slow on the hills of life, Whose round […]
The Empty Boats by Vachel Lindsay
Why do I see these empty boats, sailing on airy seas? One haunted me the whole night long, swaying with every breeze, Returning always near the eaves, or by the skylight glass: There it will wait me many weeks, and then, at last, will pass. Each soul is haunted by a ship in which that […]
The Drunkards in the Street by Vachel Lindsay
The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, — Publicans and wantons — Calling, laughing, calling, While the Spirit bloweth Space and Time away. Why should I feel the sobbing, the secrecy, the glory, This comforter, this fitful wind divine? I the cautious Pharisee, the […]
The Cornfields by Vachel Lindsay
The cornfields rise above mankind, Lifting white torches to the blue, Each season not ashamed to be Magnificently decked for you. What right have you to call them yours, And in brute lust of riches burn Without some radiant penance wrought, Some beautiful, devout return? ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem […]
The Congo: A Study of the Negro Race by Vachel Lindsay
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, A deep rolling bass. Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom, Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, With a silk umbrella and […]
The Broncho That Would Not Be Broken by Vachel Lindsay
A little colt — broncho, loaned to the farm To be broken in time without fury or harm, Yet black crows flew past you, shouting alarm, Calling “Beware,” with lugubrious singing… The butterflies there in the bush were romancing, The smell of the grass caught your soul in a trance, So why be a-fearing the […]
The Bankrupt Peace-Maker by Vachel Lindsay
I opened the ink-well and smoke filled the room. The smoke formed the giant frog-cat of my doom. His web feet left dreadful slime tracks on the floor. He had hammer and nails that he laid by the door. He sprawled on the table, claw-hands in my hair. He looked through my heart to the […]
The Amaranth by Vachel Lindsay
Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . . Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and yawns And the tremendous Amaranth descends Sweet with the glory of ten thousand dawns? Does it not mean my God would have me say: — “Whether you will or no, O city young, Heaven will […]
Sweet Briars of the Stairways by Vachel Lindsay
We are happy all the time Even when we fight: Sweet briars of the stairways, Gay fairies of the grime; We, who are playing to-night. “Our feet are in the gutters, Our eyes are sore with dust, But still our eyes are bright. The wide street roars and mutters — We know it works because […]
Sunshine by Vachel Lindsay
FOR A VERY LITTLE GIRL, NOT A YEAR OLD. CATHARINE FRAZEE WAKEFIELD. The sun gives not directly The coal, the diamond crown; Not in a special basket Are these from Heaven let down. The sun gives not directly The plough, man’s iron friend; Not by a path or stairway Do tools from Heaven descend. Yet […]
St. Francis of Assisi by Vachel Lindsay
Would I might wake St. Francis in you all, Brother of birds and trees, God’s Troubadour, Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor; Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men, Come, let us chant the canticle again Of mother earth and the enduring sun. God make each soul the lonely leper’s slave; God make […]
Shakespeare by Vachel Lindsay
Would that in body and spirit Shakespeare came Visible emperor of the deeds of Time, With Justice still the genius of his rhyme, Giving each man his due, each passion grace, Impartial as the rain from Heaven’s face Or sunshine from the heaven-enthroned sun. Sweet Swan of Avon, come to us again. Teach us to […]
Look You, I’ll Go Pray by Vachel Lindsay
Look you, I’ll go pray, My shame is crying, My soul is gray and faint, My faith is dying. Look you, I’ll go pray — “Sweet Mary, make me clean, Thou rainstorm of the soul, Thou wine from worlds unseen.” ————— The End And that’s the End of the Poem © Poetry Monster, 2021. Poems by […]
Lincoln by Vachel Lindsay
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all, That which is gendered in the wilderness From lonely prairies and God’s tenderness. Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream, Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream, Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave, Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire — Fire that freed […]
King Arthur’s Men Have Come Again by Vachel Lindsay
[Written while a field-worker in the Anti-Saloon League of Illinois.] King Arthur’s men have come again. They challenge everywhere The foes of Christ’s Eternal Church. Her incense crowns the air. The heathen knighthood cower and curse To hear the bugles ring, But spears are set, the charge is on, Wise Arthur shall be king! And […]
Incense by Vachel Lindsay
Think not that incense-smoke has had its day. My friends, the incense-time has but begun. Creed upon creed, cult upon cult shall bloom, Shrine after shrine grow gray beneath the sun. And mountain-boulders in our aged West Shall guard the graves of hermits truth-endowed: And there the scholar from the Chinese hills Shall do deep […]
In Memory of a Child by Vachel Lindsay
I The angels guide him now, And watch his curly head, And lead him in their games, The little boy we led. II He cannot come to harm, He knows more than we know, His light is brighter far Than daytime here below. III His path leads on and on, Through pleasant lawns and flowers, […]
I Went Down into the Desert by Vachel Lindsay
I went down into the desert To meet Elijah— Arisen from the dead. I thought to. find him in an echoing cave; For so my dream had said. I went down into the desert To meet John the Baptist. I walked with feet that bled, Seeking that prophet lean and brown and bold. I spied […]
Rhymes for Gloriana by Vachel Lindsay
I. THE DOLL UPON THE TOPMOST BOUGH This doll upon the topmost bough, This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress, Was taken down and brought to me One sleety night most comfortless. Her hair was gold, her dolly-sash Was gray brocade, most good to see. The dear toy laughed, and I forgot The ill the new year […]
How a Little Girl Sang by Vachel Lindsay
Ah, she was music in herself, A symphony of joyousness. She sang, she sang from finger tips, From every tremble of her dress. I saw sweet haunting harmony, An ecstasy, an ecstasy, In that strange curling of her lips, That happy curling of her lips. And quivering with melody Those eyes I saw, that tossing […]