Vachel Lindsay

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

Vachel Lindsay Poems

41. I Heard Immanuel Singing 1/3/2003
42. To Mary Pickford 1/3/2003
43. To Jane Addams At The Hague 1/3/2003
44. Kalamazoo 4/10/2010
45. Speak Now For Peace 4/10/2010
46. To Reformers In Despair 1/3/2003
47. God Send The Regicide 4/10/2010
48. Michaelangelo 1/3/2003
49. When Bryan Speaks 1/3/2003
50. When Gassy Thompson Struck It Rich 1/3/2003
51. Sweet Briars Of The Stairways 1/3/2003
52. To Gloriana 1/3/2003
53. Epilogue 1/3/2003
54. What The Scare-Crow Said 4/10/2010
55. Rhymes For Gloriana 1/3/2003
56. Prologue To Rhymes To Be Traded For Bread 1/3/2003
57. The Amaranth 1/3/2003
58. Foreign Missions In Battle Array 1/3/2003
59. The Scissors-Grinder 1/3/2003
60. Parvenu 4/10/2010
61. The Sorceress! 1/3/2003
62. The Black Hawk War Of The Artists 1/3/2003
63. To Lady Jane 1/3/2003
64. Tolstoi Is Plowing Yet 4/10/2010
65. The Knight In Disguise 1/3/2003
66. What Semiramis Said 1/3/2003
67. The Mouse That Gnawed The Oak-Tree Down 4/10/2010
68. Upon Returning To The Country Road 1/3/2003
69. The Spice-Tree 1/3/2003
70. Titian 1/3/2003
71. The Golden Whales Of California 4/10/2010
72. The Jingo And The Minstrel 1/3/2003
73. A Colloquial Reply: To Any Newsboy 4/10/2010
74. Popcorn, Glass Balls, And Cranberries 1/3/2003
75. King Arthur's Men Have Come Again 1/3/2003
76. Two Easter Stanzas 4/10/2010
77. The Gamblers 1/3/2003
78. The Cornfields 1/3/2003
79. Sweethearts Of The Year 1/3/2003
80. Here's To The Mice! 1/3/2003

Comments about Vachel Lindsay

  • Peter Harter (6/10/2007 4:50:00 PM)

    if anyone knows where to get CD recordings of Vachel Lindsay reading email me:

    14 person liked.
    17 person did not like.
Best Poem of Vachel Lindsay

The Congo: A Study Of The Negro Race


Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room,
Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable,
Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table,
A deep rolling bass.
Pounded on the table,
Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,
Hard as they were able,
Boom, boom, BOOM,
With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.
THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.
I could not turn from their revel in derision.
More deliberate. Solemnly ...

Read the full of The Congo: A Study Of The Negro Race


Would I might wake in you the whirl-wind soul
Of Michelangelo, who hewed the stone
And Night and Day revealed, whose arm alone
Could draw the face of God, the titan high
Whose genius smote like lightning from the sky —
And shall he mold like dead leaves in the grave?
Nay he is in us! Let us dare and dare.
God help us to be brave.

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