Additional Poems By Vachel Lindsay Essay Research

Additional Poems By Vachel Lindsay Essay, Research Paper

THE TRAVELLER-HEART

(To a Man who maintained that the Mausoleum is the Stateliest Possible Manner of

Interment)

I would be one with the dark, dark earth:–

Follow the plough with a yokel tread.

I would be part of the Indian corn,

Walking the rows with the plumes o’erhead.

I would be one with the lavish earth,

Eating the bee-stung apples red:

Walking where lambs walk on the hills;

By oak-grove paths to the pools be led.

I would be one with the dark-bright night

When sparkling skies and the lightning wed–

Walking on with the vicious wind

By roads whence even the dogs have fled.

I would be one with the sacred earth

On to the end, till I sleep with the dead.

Terror shall put no spears through me.

Peace shall jewel my shroud instead.

I shall be one with all pit-black things

Finding their lowering threat unsaid:

Stars for my pillow there in the gloom,–

Oak-roots arching about my head!

Stars, like daisies, shall rise through the earth,

Acorns fall round my breast that bled.

Children shall weave there a flowery chain,

Squirrels on acorn-hearts be fed:–

Fruit of the traveller-heart of me,

Fruit of my harvest-songs long sped:

Sweet with the life of my sunburned days

When the sheaves were ripe, and the apples red.

from Congo and other poems (1915). Online Source: http://www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/

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,

Their quarrels and arguments thin,

Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:"–

"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.

"Bring me old wines," said Aladdin.

"I have been a starved pauper too long.

Serve them in vessels of jade and of shell,

Serve them with fruit and with song:–

Wines of pre-Adamite Sultans

Digged from beneath the black seas:–

New-gathered dew from the heavens

Dripped down from Heaven’s sweet trees,

Cups from the angels’ pale tables

That will make me both handsome and wise,

For I have beheld her, the princess,

Firelight and starlight her eyes.

Pauper I am, I would woo her.

And–let me drink wine, to begin,

Though the Koran expressly forbids it."

"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.

"Plan me a dome," said Aladdin,

"That is drawn like the dawn of the MOON,

When the sphere seems to rest on the mountains,

Half-hidden, yet full-risen soon."

Build me a dome," said Aladdin,"

That shall cause all young lovers to sigh,

The fullness of life and of beauty,

Peace beyond peace to the eye–

A palace of foam and of opal,

Pure moonlight without and within,

Where I may enthrone my sweet lady."

"I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.

from Congo and other poems (1915). Online Source: http://www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/

ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT

(In Springfield, Illinois)

It is portentous, and a thing of state

That here at midnight, in our little town

A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,

Near the old court-house pacing up and down,

Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards

He lingers where his children used to play,

Or through the market, on the well-worn stones

He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,

A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl

Make him the quaint great figure that men love,

The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.

He cannot sleep upon his hillside now.

He is among us:–as in times before!

And we who toss and lie awake for long

Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door.

‘His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings.

Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep.

Too many peasants fight, they know not why,

Too many homesteads in black terror weep.

The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart.

He sees the dreadnoughts scouring every main.

He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now

The bitterness, the folly and the pain.

He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn

Shall come;–the shining hope of Europe free:

The league of sober folk, the Workers’ Earth,

Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.

It breaks his heart that kings must murder still,

That all his hours of travail here for men

Seen yet in vain. And who will bring whi

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