All Poems

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The Beggar's Valentine

© Vachel Lindsay

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

Not Waving but Drowning

© Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

The Song of the Garden-Toad

© Vachel Lindsay

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

But they, above the battle, throng a space
Of starry silences and silver rest.
Commingled ghosts, they press like brothers through
White, dove-winged portals, where one Father's face
Atones their passion, as the ethereal blue
Serenes the fiery glows of east and west.

Rhymes for Gloriana

© Vachel Lindsay

This doll upon the topmost bough,
This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress,
Was taken down and brought to me
One sleety night most comfortless.

The Two Blackbirds

© George Meredith

A blackbird in a wicker cage,
That hung and swung 'mid fruits and flowers,
Had learnt the song-charm, to assuage
The drearness of its wingless hours.

To the United States Senate

© Vachel Lindsay

And must the Senator from Illinois
Be this squat thing, with blinking, half-closed eyes?
This brazen gutter idol, reared to power
Upon a leering pyramid of lies?

Not Dead

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

To J.A.D.
HERE, at the sweetest hour of this sweet day,
Here in the calmest woodland haunt I know,
Benignant thoughts around my memory play,

We Meet at the Judgment and I Fear It Not

© Vachel Lindsay

Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,
I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
With golden hope my spirit still adorning.

Phantasmagoria Canto VII ( Sad Souvenaunce )

© Lewis Carroll

"WHAT'S this?" I pondered. "Have I slept?
Or can I have been drinking?"
But soon a gentler feeling crept
Upon me, and I sat and wept
An hour or so, like winking.

With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses

© Vachel Lindsay

"Excellent Lord, I come. But first," I said,
"Grant that I bring her these twelve roses red.
Yea, twelve flower kisses for her rose-leaf mouth,
And then indeed I go in bitter drouth
To that far valley where your river flows
In Peace, that once I found in every rose."

Legend

© Judith Wright

The blacksmith's boy went out with a rifle

and a black dog running behind.

The Drunkards in the Street

© 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.

The Amaranth

© 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?

Look You, I'll Go Pray

Look you, I'll go pray,
My shame is crying,
My soul is gray and faint,
My faith is dying.

On the Approach of Autumn

© Amelia Opie

Farewell gay Summer! now the changing wind
That Autumn brings commands thee to retreat;
It fades the roses which thy temples bind,
And the green sandals which adorn thy feet.

The Master of the Dance

A chant to which it is intended a group of children shall dance and improvise pantomime led by their dancing-teacher.
IA master deep-eyed
Ere his manhood was ripe,
He sang like a thrush,

Postlude

Now that I have cooled to you

Let there be gold of tarnished masonry,

Galahad, Knight Who Perished

A POEM DEDICATED TO ALL CRUSADERS AGAINST THE INTERNATIONAL AND INTERSTATE TRAFFIC IN YOUNG GIRLS
Galahad . . . soldier that perished . . . ages ago,
Our hearts are breaking with shame, our tears overflow.
Galahad . . . knight who perished . . . awaken again,