Vachel Lindsay

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

Vachel Lindsay Poems

1. Friends, I Will Not Cease 3/10/2015
2. The Voyage 3/23/2015
3. The Proud Farmer 1/3/2003
4. The Raft 1/3/2003
5. The Wizard In The Street 1/3/2003
6. John Bunny, Motion Picture Comedian 4/10/2010
7. The Rhymer’s Reply. Incense And Splendor 4/10/2010
8. The Queen Of Bubbles 1/3/2003
9. To The United States Senate 1/3/2003
10. The Doll Upon The Topmost Bough 4/10/2010
11. On Suddenly Receiving A Curl Long Refused 4/10/2010
12. What The Forester Said 4/10/2010
13. Our Guardian Angels And Their Children 1/3/2003
14. Honor Among Scamps 1/3/2003
15. On Receiving One Of Gloriana’s Letters 4/10/2010
16. Where Is David, The Next King Of Israel? 1/3/2003
17. What The Hyena Said 4/10/2010
18. Who Knows? 1/3/2003
19. What The Sexton Said 1/3/2003
20. Genesis 1/3/2003
21. What The Miner In The Desert Said 1/3/2003
22. Incense 1/3/2003
23. Once More—to Gloriana 4/10/2010
24. How Samson Bore Away The Gates Of Gaza 1/3/2003
25. Where Is The Real Non-Resistant 1/3/2003
26. The Voice Of The Man Impatient With Visions And Utopias 4/10/2010
27. Edwin Booth 4/10/2010
28. What The Coal-Heaver Said 1/3/2003
29. The Sun Says His Prayers 1/3/2003
30. Mae Marsh, Motion Picture Actress 1/3/2003
31. What The Ghost Of The Gambler Said 1/3/2003
32. The Modest Jazz-Bird 4/10/2010
33. The Alchemist's Petition 1/3/2003
34. The Bankrupt Peace-Maker 1/3/2003
35. This, My Song, Is Made For Kerensky 1/3/2003
36. On Reading Omar Khayyam 1/3/2003
37. The Prairie Battlements 1/3/2003
38. How I Walked Alone In The Jungles Of Heaven 1/3/2003
39. The Hearth Eternal 1/3/2003
40. The Drunkards In The Street 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

Ghosts In Love

"Tell me, where do ghosts in love
Find their bridal veils?"

"If you and I were ghosts in love
We'd climb the cliffs of Mystery,
Above the sea of Wails.
I'd trim your gray and streaming hair
With veils of Fantasy
From the tree of Memory.
'Tis there the ghosts that fall in love
Find their bridal veils."

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