Vachel Lindsay

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

Vachel Lindsay Poems

81. The Fairy Bridal-Hymn 1/3/2003
82. The Encyclopaedia 1/3/2003
83. The Dreamer 4/10/2010
84. In Memory Of A Child 1/3/2003
85. My Lady In Her White Silk Shawl 1/3/2003
86. The Trap 1/3/2003
87. The Master Of The Dance 1/3/2003
88. Galahad, Knight Who Perished 1/3/2003
89. Epitaphs For Two Players 1/3/2003
90. The Empty Boats 1/3/2003
91. King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba 4/10/2010
92. The Firemen's Ball 1/3/2003
93. The Drunkard's Funeral 1/3/2003
94. The Dangerous Little Boy Fairies 4/10/2010
95. The Merciful Hand 1/3/2003
96. Yankee Doodle 1/3/2003
97. The Unpardonable Sin 1/3/2003
98. The Haughty Snail-King 1/3/2003
99. The Song Of The Garden-Toad 1/3/2003
100. The Flower Of Mending 1/3/2003
101. With A Bouquet Of Twelve Roses 1/3/2003
102. What The Gray-Winged Fairy Said 1/3/2003
103. The Illinois Village 1/3/2003
104. The Traveller-Heart 1/3/2003
105. John Brown 4/10/2010
106. The Conscientious Deacon 4/10/2010
107. The Horrid Voice Of Science 4/10/2010
108. On The Road To Nowhere 1/3/2003
109. The Dandelion 1/3/2003
110. Look You, I'Ll Go Pray 1/3/2003
111. Eden In Winter 1/3/2003
112. My Lady Is Compared To A Young Tree 4/10/2010
113. The Tale Of The Tiger-Tree 1/3/2003
114. Niagara 1/3/2003
115. The North Star Whispers To The Blacksmith's Son 1/3/2003
116. We Meet At The Judgment And I Fear It Not 1/3/2003
117. The Soul Of The City Receives The Gift Of The Holy Spirit 1/3/2003
118. Crickets On A Strike 4/10/2010
119. Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan 11/15/2011
120. What The Snow Man Said 4/10/2010

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

On The Garden Wall

Oh, once I walked a garden
In dreams. 'Twas yellow grass.
And many orange-trees grew there
In sand as white as glass.
The curving, wide wall-border
Was marble, like the snow.
I walked that wall a fairy-prince
And, pacing quaint and slow,
Beside me were my pages,

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