Vachel Lindsay

(November 10, 1879 – December 5, 1931 / Springfield, Illinois)

Drying Their Wings - Poem by Vachel Lindsay

What the Carpenter Said


The moon's a cottage with a door.
Some folks can see it plain.
Look, you may catch a glint of light,
A sparkle through the pane,
Showing the place is brighter still
Within, though bright without.
There, at a cosy open fire
Strange babes are grouped about.
The children of the wind and tide--
The urchins of the sky,
Drying their wings from storms and things
So they again can fly.


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Read poems about / on: children, moon, fire, wind, sky, light, child



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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