Vachel Lindsay

Sweetheart SpringOur Sweetheart, Spring, came softly,
Her gliding hands were fire,
Her lilac breath upon our cheeks
Consumed us with desire.By her our God began to build,…

Let not our town be large, remembering That little Athens was the Muses' home,
That Oxford rules the heart of London still,
That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome.
Record it for the grandson of your son — A city is not builded…

Two old crows sat on a fence rail. Two old crows sat on a fence rail, Thinking of effect and cause, Of weeds and flowers, And nature's laws. One of them muttered, one of them stuttered, One of them stuttered, one of them muttered. Each of them…

Two statesmen met by moonlight.
Their ease was partly feigned.
They glanced about the prairie.
Their faces were constrained.…

Would that by Hindu magic we became Dark monks of jeweled India long ago,
Sitting at Prince Siddartha's feet to know The foolishness of gold and love and station,
The gospel of the Great Renunciation,
The ragged cloak, the staff,…

Where now the huts are empty,
Where never a camp-fire glows,
In an abandoned cañon,
A Gambler's Ghost arose.

It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards…

The whole world on a raft! A King is here,
The record of his grandeur but a smear.
Is it his deacon-beard, or old bald pate
That makes the band upon his whims to wait?…

[Written for a picture]The Youth speaks: —:"Why do you seek the sun In your bubble-crown ascending?
Your chariot will melt to mist.
Your crown will have an ending." The Goddess replies: — :"Nay, sun is but a…

Kiss me and comfort my heart
Maiden honest and fine.
I am the pilgrim boy
Lame, but hunting the shrine;Fleeing away from the sweets,…

Are these your presences, my clan from Heaven?
Are these your hands upon my wounded soul?
Mine own, mine own, blood of my blood be with me,
Fly by my path till you have made me whole!

Я с криком проснулся во мраке ночном.
Звенели все стекла, ударил гром,
И пол колебался, и огненный шар
За дверью раскрытой блеснул, как пожар.…

A BROADSIDE DISTRIBUTED IN SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOISCensers are swinging,
Over the town;
Censers are swinging,
Look overhead!…

Upon her breast her hands and hair
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not —
The golden night time weather…

O great heart of God,
Once vague and lost to me,
Why do I throb with your throb to-night,
In this land, eternity?O little heart of God,…

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.…

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…

We are happy all the time
Even when we fight:
Sweet briars of the stairways,
Gay fairies of the grime;…

I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)Legree’s big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.…

(To Edgar Lee Masters, with great respect)HERE upon the prarie
Is our ancestral hall.
Agate is the dome,
Cornelian the wall.…

[To be sung to the tune of The Blood of the Lamb
with indicated instrument]I[Bass drum beaten loudly.]Booth led boldly with his big bass drum --
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
The Saints smiled gravely and they said: ”He’s come.”…

The moon’s an open furnace door
Where all can see the blast,
We shovel in our blackest griefs,
Upon that grate are cast…

Down, down beneath the daisy beds,
O hear the cries of pain!
And moaning on the cinder-path
They’re blind amid the rain.…