Vachel Lindsay

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

Vachel Lindsay Poems

1. The Congo: A Study Of The Negro Race 1/3/2003
2. Abraham Lincoln Walks At Midnight 1/3/2003
3. An Indian Summer Day On The Prairie 1/3/2003
4. A Sense Of Humor 1/3/2003
5. The Leaden-Eyed 1/3/2003
6. The Moon's The North Wind's Cooky 1/3/2003
7. The Little Turtle 1/3/2003
8. A Dirge For A Righteous Kitten 1/3/2003
9. This Section Is A Christmas Tree 1/3/2003
10. Darling Daughter Of Babylon 1/3/2003
11. By The Spring, At Sunset 1/3/2003
12. Beyond The Moon 1/3/2003
13. The Flower-Fed Buffaloes 1/3/2003
14. Love And Law 1/3/2003
15. The Chinese Nightingale 1/3/2003
16. Aladdin And The Jinn 1/3/2003
17. Alone In The Wind, On The Prairie 1/3/2003
18. Buddha 1/3/2003
19. How A Little Girl Danced 1/3/2003
20. Factory Windows Are Always Broken 1/3/2003
21. Drying Their Wings 1/3/2003
22. General William Booth Enters Into Heaven 1/3/2003
23. Ghosts In Love 1/3/2003
24. A Rhyme About An Electrical Advertising Sign 1/3/2003
25. A Net To Snare The Moonlight 1/3/2003
26. A Curse For Kings 1/3/2003
27. A Prayer To All The Dead Among Mine Own People 1/3/2003
28. Star Of My Heart 1/3/2003
29. Euclid 1/3/2003
30. The Wedding Of The Rose And The Lotos 1/3/2003
31. An Argument 1/3/2003
32. Shakespeare 1/3/2003
33. On The Garden Wall 1/3/2003
34. Our Mother Pocahontas 1/3/2003
35. St. Francis Of Assisi 1/3/2003
36. Elizabeth Barrett Browning 1/3/2003
37. What The Rattlesnake Said 1/3/2003
38. Lincoln 1/3/2003
39. The Perfect Marriage 1/3/2003
40. At Mass 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Vachel Lindsay

The Congo: A Study Of The Negro Race

I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY

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.
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
More deliberate. Solemnly ...

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

Michaelangelo

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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