Michelangelo

    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.

Vachel Lindsay

Vachel Lindsay was an American poet known for his innovative performances of his poetry, which combined spoken word with music and theatrics. Born in Springfield, Illinois, Lindsay's work often revolved around American history and culture, reflecting his progressive social views. He played a significant role in the early 20th-century American poetry scene, influencing contemporaries and later poets with his dynamic style and passionate delivery.

Vachel Lindsay

He Nears the Goal

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Indian Girl Who Made Them (Comes after: The Tree of Laughing Bells, or The Wings of the Morning)

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Queen of Bubbles

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

Sunshine

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Proem. The Philosophic Flight.

Poi che spiegate.


        Now that these wings to speed my wish ascend,
                The more I feel vast air beneath my feet,
                The more toward boundless air on pinions fleet,
                Spurning the earth, soaring to heaven, I tend:
        Nor makes them stoop their flight the direful end
                Of Daedal's son; but upward still they beat:--
                What life the while with my life can compete,
                Though dead to earth at last I shall descend?
        My own heart's voice in the void air I hear:
                Where wilt thou bear me, O rash man? Recall
                Thy daring will! This boldness waits on fear!
        Dread not, I answer, that tremendous fall:
                Strike through the clo...

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Titian

    Would that such hills and cities round us sang,
    Such vistas of the actual earth and man
    As kindled Titian when his life began;
    Would that this latter Greek could put his gold,
    Wisdom and splendor in our brushes bold
    Till Greece and Venice, children of the sun,
    Become our every-day, and we aspire
    To colors fairer far, and glories higher.

Vachel Lindsay

Beauty And The Artist.

Al cor di zolfo.


A heart of flaming sulphur, flesh of tow,
        Bones of dry wood, a soul without a guide
        To curb the fiery will, the ruffling pride
        Of fierce desires that from the passions flow;
A sightless mind that weak and lame doth go
        Mid snares and pitfalls scattered far and wide;--
        What wonder if the first chance brand applied
        To fuel massed like this should make it glow?
Add beauteous art, which, brought with us from heaven,
        Will conquer nature;--so divine a power
        Belongs to him who strives with every nerve.
If I was made for art, from childhood given
        A prey for burning beauty to devour,
        I blame the mistress I was born to serve.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

On Dante Alighieri.

Dal ciel discese.


From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay
        The realms of justice and of mercy trod,
        Then rose a living man to gaze on God,
        That he might make the truth as clear as day.
For that pure star that brightened with his ray
        The undeserving nest where I was born,
        The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn;
        None but his Maker can due guerdon pay.
I speak of Dante, whose high work remains
        Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood,
        Who only to just men deny their wage.
Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains,
        Against his exile coupled with his good
        I'd gladly change the world's best heritage!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

St. Francis of Assisi

    Would I might wake St. Francis in you all,
    Brother of birds and trees, God's Troubadour,
    Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor;
    Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men,
    Come, let us chant the canticle again
    Of mother earth and the enduring sun.
    God make each soul the lonely leper's slave;
    God make us saints, and brave.

Vachel Lindsay

Heart of God

    O great heart of God,
    Once vague and lost to me,
    Why do I throb with your throb to-night,
    In this land, eternity?

    O little heart of God,
    Sweet intruding stranger,
    You are laughing in my human breast,
    A Christ-child in a manger.

    Heart, dear heart of God,
    Beside you now I kneel,
    Strong heart of faith.    O heart not mine,
    Where God has set His seal.

    Wild thundering heart of God
    Out of my doubt I come,
    And my foolish feet with prophets' feet,
    March with the prophets' drum.

Vachel Lindsay