Author: Vachel Lindsay

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

I. A NEGRO SERMON:-SIMON LEGREE (To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.) Legree’s big house was white […]

Kiss me and comfort my heart Maiden honest and fine. I am the pilgrim boy Lame, but hunting the shrine; […]

No doubt to-morrow I will hide My face from you, my King. Let me rejoice this Sunday noon, And kneel […]

(IN THE BEGINNING) THE sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an […]

Awake again in Asia, Lord of Peace, Awake and preach, for her far swordsmen rise. And would they sheathe the […]

(A Poem Game.) I “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “Down cellar,” said the cricket, “I […]

He paid a Swede twelve bits an hour Just to invent a fancy style To spread the celebration paint So […]

Romance was always young. You come today Just eight years old With marvellous dark hair. Younger than Dante found you […]

O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones […]

Though I have watched so many mourners weep O’er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep- Those dead seemed […]

I. EDWIN BOOTH An old actor at the Player’s Club told me that Edwin Booth first impersonated Hamlet when a […]

Ah, in the night, all music haunts me here. . . . Is it for naught high Heaven cracks and […]

I saw wild domes and bowers And smoking incense towers And mad exotic flowers In Illinois. Where ragged ditches ran […]

A curse upon each king who leads his state, No matter what his plea, to this foul game, And may […]

(Written with the hope that the socialists might yet dethrone Kaiser and Czar.) Here’s to the mice that scare the […]

Are these your presences, my clan from Heaven? Are these your hands upon my wounded soul? Mine own, mine own, […]

Life’s a jail where men have common lot. Gaunt the one who has, and who has not. All our treasures […]

The Drunkards in the street are calling one another, Heeding not the night-wind, great of heart and gay, – Publicans […]

(What the Mendicant Said ) The moon’s a monk, unmated, Who walks his cell, the sky. His strength is that […]