Author: Vachel Lindsay

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

FOR A VERY LITTLE GIRL, NOT A YEAR OLD. CATHARINE FRAZEE WAKEFIELD. The sun gives not directly The coal, the […]

‘Tis not too late to build our young land right, Cleaner than Holland, courtlier than Japan, Devout like early Rome, […]

The moon’s a gong, hung in the wild, Whose song the fays hold dear. Of course you do not hear […]

He coveted her portrait. He toiled as she grew gay. She loved to see him labor In that devoted way. […]

[Concerning O. Henry (Sidney Porter)] “He could not forget that he was a Sidney.” Is this Sir Philip Sidney, this […]

TRUE Love is founded in rocks of Remembrance In stones of Forbearance and mortar of pain. The workman lays wearily […]

The wide Pacific waters And the Atlantic meet. With cries of joy they mingle, In tides of love they greet. […]

I know a seraph who has golden eyes, And hair of gold, and body like the snow. Here in the […]

“Tell me, where do ghosts in love Find their bridal veils?” “If you and I were ghosts in love We’d […]