Vachel Lindsay

Vachel Lindsay

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Nicholas Vachel Lindsay (November 10, 1879 – December 5, 1931) was an American poet. He is considered a founder of modern singing poetry, as he referred to it, in which verses are meant to be sung or chanted.
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On The Building Of Springfield

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 in...
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Two Old Crows

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
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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, th...
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What The Ghost Of The Gambler Said

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

[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 bubble,
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The Leaden-Eyed

Let not young souls be smothered out
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
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The North Star Whispers To The Blacksmiths Son

The North Star whispers: "You are one Of those whose course no chance can change
You blunder, but are not undone,
Your spirit-task is fixed and strange
"When here you walk, a bloodless shade,
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Love And Law

True Love is founded in rocks of Remembrance In stones of Forbearance and mortar of pain
The workman lays wearily granite on granite,
And bleeds for his castle, 'mid sunshine and rain
Love is not velvet, not all of it velvet,
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On The Garden Wall

Oh, once I walked a garden In dreams
'Twas yellow grass
And many orange-trees grew there In sand as white as glass
The curving, wide wall-border Was marble, like the snow
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Drying Their Wings

What the Carpenter
The moon's a cottage with a door
Some folks can see it plain
Look, you may catch a glint of light,
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Prologue To Rhymes To Be Traded For Bread

Even the shrewd and bitter,
Gnarled by the old world's greed,
Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need
Shelter and patient hearing,
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Old Euclid drew a circle On a sand-beach long ago
He bounded and enclosed it With angles thus and so
His set of solemn greybeards Nodded and argued much Of arc and circumference,
Diameter and such
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In Memory Of A Child

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
II His path leads on and on...
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The Lion

The Lion is a kingly beast
He likes a Hindu for a feast
And if no Hindu he can get,
The lion-family is upset
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A Curse For Kings

A curse upon each king who leads his state,
No matter what his plea, to this foul game,
And may it end his wicked dynasty,
And may he die in exile and black shame
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By The Spring At Sunset

Sometimes we remember kisses,
Remember the dear heart-leap when they came:
Not always, but sometimes we
The kindness, the dumbness, the good
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