Vachel Lindsay

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

Vachel Lindsay Poems

121. In Praise Of Songs That Die 1/3/2003
122. Queen Mab In The Village 1/3/2003
123. The Master Of The Dance 1/3/2003
124. The Eagle That Is Forgotten 1/3/2003
125. To Buddha 1/3/2003
126. I Went Down Into The Desert 1/3/2003
127. What The Moon Saw 1/3/2003
128. The City That Will Not Repent 1/3/2003
129. Davy Jones' Door-Bell 4/10/2010
130. The Moon Is A Painter 1/3/2003
131. On The Building Of Springfield 1/3/2003
132. The Hope Of The Resurrection 1/3/2003
133. Why I Voted The Socialist Ticket 1/3/2003
134. The Lion 1/3/2003
135. Heart Of God 1/3/2003
136. Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan 11/15/2011
137. The Santa-Fe Trail (A Humoresque) 1/3/2003
138. The Beggar's Valentine 1/3/2003
139. The Booker Washington Trilogy 1/3/2003
140. Sunshine 1/3/2003
141. Caught In A Net 1/3/2003
142. Concerning Emperors 1/3/2003
143. Written For A Musician 1/3/2003
144. The King Of Yellow Butterflies 1/3/2003
145. Two Old Crows 1/3/2003
146. An Apology For The Bottle Volcanic 1/3/2003
147. The Tree Of Laughing Bells 1/3/2003
148. The Rose Of Midnight 1/3/2003
149. Yet Gentle Will The Griffin Be 1/3/2003
150. The Strength Of The Lonely 1/3/2003
151. Mark Twain And Joan Of Arc 1/3/2003
152. The Light O' The Moon 1/3/2003
153. How A Little Girl Sang 1/3/2003
154. Above The Battle's Front 1/3/2003
155. The Broncho That Would Not Be Broken 1/3/2003
156. Blanche Sweet 1/3/2003
157. The Angel And The Clown 1/3/2003
158. At Mass 1/3/2003
159. The Perfect Marriage 1/3/2003
160. Lincoln 1/3/2003
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

Aladdin And The Jinn

"Bring me soft song," said Aladdin.
"This tailor-shop sings not at all.
Chant me a word of the twilight,
Of roses that mourn in the fall.
Bring me a song like hashish
That will comfort the stale and the sad,
For I would be mending my spirit,
Forgetting these days that are bad,
Forgetting companions too shallow,

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