Additional Poems By Vachel Lindsay Essay Research
Extra Poems By Vachel Lindsay Essay, Research Paper
THE TRAVELLER-HEART
( To a Man who maintained that the Mausoleum is the Stateliest Possible Manner of
Burial )
I would be one with the dark, dark Earth: & # 8211 ;
Follow the Big Dipper with a rube pace.
I would be portion of the Indian maize,
Walking the rows with the plumes o & # 8217 ; erhead.
I would be one with the munificent Earth,
Eating the bee-stung apples red:
Walking where lambs walk on the hills ;
By oak-grove waies to the pools be led.
I would be one with the dark-bright dark
When scintillating skies and the lightning wed & # 8211 ;
Walking on with the barbarous air current
By roads whence even the Canis familiariss have fled.
I would be one with the sacred Earth
On to the terminal, boulder clay I sleep with the dead.
Terror shall set no lances through me.
Peace shall jewel my shroud alternatively.
I shall be one with all pit-black things
Finding their lowering menace unsaid:
Stars for my pillow at that place in the somberness, & # 8211 ;
Oak-roots curving about my caput!
Stars, like daisies, shall lift through the Earth,
Acorns autumn unit of ammunition my chest that bled.
Children shall weave there a flowery concatenation,
Squirrels on acorn-hearts be fed: & # 8211 ;
Fruit of the traveller-heart of me,
Fruit of my harvest-songs long sped:
Sweet with the life of my sunburnt yearss
When the bundles were mature, and the apples red.
from Congo and other verse forms ( 1915 ) . Online Beginning: hypertext transfer protocol: //www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/
ALADDIN AND THE JINN
“ Bring me soft vocal, ” said Aladdin.
“ This tailor-shop sings non at all.
Chant me a word of the dusk,
Of roses that mourn in the autumn.
Bring me a vocal like hasheesh
That will soothe the stale and the sad,
For I would be repairing my spirit,
Forgeting these yearss that are bad,
Forgeting comrades excessively shallow,
Their wrangles and statements thin,
Forgeting the shouting Muezzin: ” & # 8211 ;
“ I AM YOUR Slave, ” said the Jinn.
“ Bring me old vinos, ” said Aladdin.
“ I have been a starving pauper excessively long.
Serve them in vass of jade and of shell,
Serve them with fruit and with vocal: & # 8211 ;
Wines of pre-Adamite Sultans
Digged from beneath the black seas: & # 8211 ;
New-gathered dew from the celestial spheres
Dripped down from Heaven & # 8217 ; s Sweet trees,
Cups from the angels & # 8217 ; pale tabular arraies
That will do me both fine-looking and wise,
For I have beheld her, the princess,
Firelight and starlight her eyes.
Pauper I am, I would court her.
And & # 8211 ; allow me imbibe vino, to get down,
Though the Koran expressly forbids it. ”
“ I AM YOUR Slave, ” said the Jinn.
“ Plan me a dome, ” said Aladdin,
“ That is drawn like the morning of the MOON,
When the sphere seems to rest on the mountains,
Half-hidden, yet full-risen shortly. ”
Construct me a dome, ” said Aladdin, ”
That shall do all immature lovers to suspire,
The comprehensiveness of life and of beauty,
Peace beyond peace to the oculus & # 8211 ;
A castle of froth and of opal,
Pure moonshine without and within,
Where I may invest my sweet lady. ”
“ I AM YOUR Slave, ” said the Jinn.
from Congo and other verse forms ( 1915 ) . Online Beginning: hypertext transfer protocol: //www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/
ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT
( In Springfield, Illinois )
It is prodigious, and a thing of province
That here at midnight, in our small town
A bereaved figure walks, and will non rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down,
Or by his homestead, or in shady paces
He lingers where his kids used to play,
Or through the market, on the well-worn rocks
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn off.
A bronzed, lank adult male! His suit of ancient black,
A celebrated high top-hat and field worn shawl
Make him the quaint great figure that work forces love,
The prairie-lawyer, maestro of us all.
He can non kip upon his hillside now.
He is among us: & # 8211 ; as in times before!
And we who toss and lie wake up for long
Breathe deep, and start, to see him go through the door.
& # 8216 ; His caput is bowed. He thinks on work forces and male monarchs.
Yea, when the ill universe calls, how can he kip?
Excessively many provincials fight, they know non why,
Excessively many homesteads in black panic weep.
The wickednesss of all the war-lords burn his bosom.
He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every chief.
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now
The resentment, the folly and the hurting.
He can non rest until a spirit-dawn
Shall come ; & # 8211 ; the reflecting hope of Europe free:
The conference of sober common people, the Workers & # 8217 ; Earth,
Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.
It breaks his bosom that male monarchs must slay still,
That all his hours of parturiency here for work forces
Seen yet in vain. And who will convey white peace
That he may kip upon his hill once more?
from Congo and other verse forms ( 1915 ) Online Source: hypertext transfer protocol: //www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/
A CURSE FOR KINGS
A expletive upon each male monarch who leads his province,
No affair what his supplication, to this disgusting game,
And may it stop his wicked dynasty,
And may he decease in expatriate and black fake
vitamin E.
If there is retribution in the Heaven of Heavens,
What penalty could Heaven invent for these
Who fill the rivers of the universe with dead,
And turn their liquidators loose on all the seas!
Put back the clock of clip a thousand old ages,
And do our Europe, one time the universe & # 8217 ; s proud Queen,
A scream adulteress, ferocious fratricide,
Eater of visceras, wallowing obscene
In cavities where 1000000s foam and rave and bark,
Mad Canis familiariss and imbeciles, thrice rummy with discord ;
While Science towers above ; & # 8211 ; a enchantress, red-winged:
Science we looked to for the visible radiation of life,
Curse me the work forces who make and sell Fe ships
Who walk the floor in idea, that they may happen
Each pulverization prompt, each steel with fearful border,
Each deadliest device against world.
Curse me the sleek Godheads with their plumes and goads,
May Heaven give their land to peasant spades,
Give them the trade name of Cain, for their pride & # 8217 ; s interest,
And criminal & # 8217 ; s chevrons for decorations and for plaits.
Curse me the fiddling, twirling diplomats,
Haggling here, plotting and hatching at that place,
Who make the sort universe but their game of cards,
Till 1000000s die at turning of a hair.
What penalty will Heaven invent for these
Who win by others & # 8217 ; perspiration and boldness,
Who make work forces into stinking vultures & # 8217 ; meat,
Stating to evil still “ Be thou my good ” ?
Ah, he who starts a million souls toward decease
Should fire in uttermost snake pit a million old ages!
& # 8211 ; Mothers of work forces go on the destined wrack
To give them life, with anguish and with cryings: & # 8211 ;
Are all those childbed sorrows sneered off?
Yea, fools laugh at the low christenings,
And cradle-joys are mocked of the fat Godheads:
These female parents & # 8217 ; boies made dead work forces for the Kings!
All in the name of this or that inexorable flag,
No angel-flags in all the rag-array & # 8211 ;
Banners the devils love, and all Hell sings
And plays wild harps. Those flags march Forth to-day!
from Congo and other verse forms ( 1915 ) Online Source: hypertext transfer protocol: //www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/
GENERAL WILLIAM BOOTH ENTERS INTO HEAVEN
[ To be sung to the melody of The Blood of the Lamb with indicated instrument ]
I
[ Bass membranophone beaten aloud. ]
BOOTH led boldly with his large bass membranophone & # 8211 ;
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
The Saints smiled soberly and they said: “ He & # 8217 ; s come. ”
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
Walking lazars followed, rank on rank,
Staggering assassins from the ditches dank,
Olive drab from the back streets and drug monsters pale & # 8212 ;
Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail: & # 8212 ;
Vermin-eaten saints with moldy breath,
Unwashed hosts with the ways of Death & # 8212 ;
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
[ Banjos. ]
Every slum had sent its half-a-score
The unit of ammunition universe over. ( Booth had groaned for more. )
Every streamer that the broad universe flies
Bloomed with glorification and surpassing dyes.
Big-voiced young girls made their banjos knock,
Tranced, overzealous they shrieked and American ginseng: & # 8212 ;
“ Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? ”
Hallelujah! It was fagot to see
Bull-necked inmates with that land make free.
Loons with huntsman’s horns blowed a blaring, blaring, blaring
On, on upward thro & # 8217 ; the aureate air!
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
Two
[ Bass membranophone slower and softer. ]
Booth died blind and still by Faith he trod,
Eyess still dazzled by the ways of God.
Booth led boldly, and he looked the head
Eagle visage in crisp alleviation,
Beard a-flying, air of high bid
Unabated in that holy land.
[ Sweet flute music. ]
Jesus came from out the court-house door,
Stretched his custodies above the passing hapless.
Booth saw non, but led his fagot 1s at that place
Round and round the mighty court-house square.
Yet in an instant all that blear reappraisal
Marched on spotless, clad in raiment new.
The square were straightened, withered limbs uncurled
And blind eyes opened on a new, sweet universe.
[ Bass membranophone louder. ]
Drabs and harpies in a flash made whole!
Gone was the weasel-head, the neb, the lower jaw!
Sages and sibyls now, and jocks clean,
Rulers of imperiums, and of woods green!
[ Grand chorus of all instruments. Tambourines to the foreground. ]
The hosts were sandalled, and their wings were fire!
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
But their noise played mayhem with the angel-choir.
( Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? )
O, cry Redemption! It was good to see
Kings and Princes by the Lamb set free.
The banjos rattled and the tambourines
Jing-jing-jingled in the custodies of Queens.
[ Reverentially sung, no instruments. ]
And when Booth halted by the kerb for supplication
He saw his Master thro & # 8217 ; the flag-filled air.
Jesus came gently with a robe and Crown
For Booth the soldier, while the multitude knelt down.
He saw King Jesus. They were face to face,
And he knelt a-weeping in that holy topographic point.
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
from General William Booth Enters into Heaven and other verse forms ( 1916 ) .
Online Beginning: hypertext transfer protocol: //www.hti.umich.edu/a/amverse/
