Good poems
/ page 415 of 545 /
The Hearth Eternal
© Vachel Lindsay
There dwelt a widow learned and devout,
Behind our hamlet on the eastern hill.
Three sons she had, who went to find the world.
They promised to return, but wandered still.
On the Building of Springfield
© Vachel Lindsay
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.
I Heard Immanuel Singing
© Vachel Lindsay
(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.)
I heard Immanuel singing
Within his own good lands,
I saw him bend above his harp.
The Bankrupt Peace-Maker
© Vachel Lindsay
I opened the ink-well and smoke filled the room.
The smoke formed the giant frog-cat of my doom.
His web feet left dreadful slime tracks on the floor.
He had hammer and nails that he laid by the door.
Don Juan: Canto The Fifteenth
© George Gordon Byron
Ah!--What should follow slips from my reflection;
Whatever follows ne'ertheless may be
Above The Battle
© Katharine Lee Bates
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.
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?
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."
The Master of the Dance
© Vachel Lindsay
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,
Epilogue
© Vachel Lindsay
Though I have found you llke a snow-drop pale,
On sunny days have found you weak and still,
Though I have often held your girlish head
Drooped on my shoulder, faint from little ill:
Sweethearts of the Year
© Vachel Lindsay
Our Sweetheart, Spring, came softly,
Her gliding hands were fire,
Her lilac breath upon our cheeks
Consumed us with desire.
The Jingo and the Minstrel
© Vachel Lindsay
AN ARGUMENT FOR THE MAINTENANCE OF PEACE AND GOODWILL WITH THE JAPANESE PEOPLEGlossary for the uninstructed and the hasty: Jimmu Tenno, ancestor of all the Japanese Emperors; Nikko, Japan's loveliest shrine; Iyeyasu, her greatest statesman; Bushido, her code of knighthood; The Forty-seven Ronins, her classic heroes; Nogi, her latest hero; Fuji, her most beautiful mountain.
"Now do you know of Avalon
That sailors call Japan?
She holds as rare a chivalry
Song. "Nonot to win the world's applause"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Nonot to win the world's applause
Would I be great or good or wise;
Upon Returning to the Country Road
© Vachel Lindsay
Even the shrewd and bitter,
Gnarled by the old world's greed,
Cherished the stranger softly
Seeing his utter need.
Cell Song
© Etheridge Knight
Night Music Slanted
Light strike the cave of sleep. I alone
tread the red circle
and twist the space with speech
Where Is David, the Next King of Israel?
© Vachel Lindsay
Where is David? . . . O God's people,
Saul has passed, the good and great.
Mourn for Saul the first-anointed
Head and shoulders o'er the state.
In Praise of Songs that Die
© Vachel Lindsay
AFTER HAVING READ A GREAT DEAL OF GOOD CURRENT POETRY IN THE MAGAZINES AND NEWSPAPERS
Ah, they are passing, passing by,
Wonderful songs, but born to die!
Cries from the infinite human seas,
An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic
© Vachel Lindsay
Sometimes I dip my pen and find the bottle full of fire,
The salamanders flying forth I cannot but admire.
It's Etna, or Vesuvius, if those big things were small,
And then 'tis but itself again, and does not smoke at all.
