Once More - To Gloriana

    Girl with the burning golden eyes,
    And red-bird song, and snowy throat:
    I bring you gold and silver moons
    And diamond stars, and mists that float.
    I bring you moons and snowy clouds,
    I bring you prairie skies to-night
    To feebly praise your golden eyes
    And red-bird song, and throat so white.

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

The Scissors-grinder

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

A Prayer to All the Dead Among Mine Own People

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Tale of the Tiger Tree

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Mysterious Cat

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

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Alone in the Wind, on the Prairie

I know a seraph who has golden eyes,
And hair of gold, and body like the snow.
Here in the wind I dream her unbound hair
Is blowing round me, that desire's sweet glow
Has touched her pale keen face, and willful mien.
And though she steps as one in manner born
To tread the forests of fair Paradise,
Dark memory's wood she chooses to adorn.
Here with bowed head, bashful with half-desire
She glides into my yesterday's deep dream,
All glowing by the misty ferny cliff
Beside the far forbidden thundering stream.
Within my dream I shake with the old flood.
I fear its going, ere the spring days go.
Yet pray the glory may have deathless years,
And kiss her hair, and sweet throat like the snow.

Vachel Lindsay

Rhymes for Gloriana - IV. In Praise of Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair

    The gleaming head of one fine friend
    Is bent above my little song,
    So through the treasure-pits of Heaven
    In fancy's shoes, I march along.

    I wander, seek and peer and ponder
    In Splendor's last ensnaring lair -
    'Mid burnished harps and burnished crowns
    Where noble chariots gleam and flare:

    Amid the spirit-coins and gems,
    The plates and cups and helms of fire -
    The gorgeous-treasure-pits of Heaven -
    Where angel-misers slake desire!

    O endless treasure-pits of gold
    Where silly angel-men make mirth -
    I think that I am there this hour,
    Though walking in the ways of earth!

Vachel Lindsay

Rhymes for Gloriana - II. On Suddenly Receiving a Curl Long Refused

    Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland silk -
    Impudent, intimate, delicate treasure:
    A noose for my heart and a ring for my finger: -
    Here in my study you sing me a measure.

    Whimsy and song in my little gray study!
    Words out of wonderland, praising her fineness,
    Touched with her pulsating, delicate laughter,
    Saying, "The girl is all daring and kindness!"

    Saying, "Her soul is all feminine gameness,
    Trusting her insights, ardent for living;
    She would be weeping with me and be laughing,
    A thoroughbred, joyous receiving and giving!"

Vachel Lindsay

Rhymes for Gloriana - III. On Receiving One of Gloriana's Letters

    Your pen needs but a ruffle
    To be Pavlova whirling.
    It surely is a scalawag
    A-scamping down the page.
    A pretty little May-wind
    The morning buds uncurling.
    And then the white sweet Russian,
    The dancer of the age.

    Your pen's the Queen of Sheba,
    Such serious questions bringing,
    That merry rascal Solomon
    Would show a sober face: -
    And then again Pavlova
    To set our spirits singing,
    The snowy-swan bacchante
    All glamour, glee and grace.

Vachel Lindsay

He Climbs the Hill Where the Tree Grows

    On -
    Thro' the gleaming gray
    I ran to the storm and clang -
    To the red, red hill where the great tree swayed -
    And scattered bells like autumn leaves.
    How the red bells rang!
    My breath within my breast
    Was held like a diver's breath -
    The leaves were tangled locks of gray -
    The boughs of the tree were white and gray,
    Shaped like scythes of Death.
    The boughs of the tree would sweep and sway -
    Sway like scythes of Death.
    But it was beautiful!
    I knew that all was well.
    A thousand bells from a thousand boughs
    Each moment bloomed and fell.
    On the hill of the wind-swept tree
    There were no bells asleep;
    They sang beneath my trailing wings
    Like rivers sweet and stee...

Vachel Lindsay

Rhymes for Gloriana - I. The Doll upon the Topmost Bough

    This doll upon the topmost bough,
    This playmate-gift, in Christmas dress,
    Was taken down and brought to me
    One sleety night most comfortless.

    Her hair was gold, her dolly-sash
    Was gray brocade, most good to see.
    The dear toy laughed, and I forgot
    The ill the new year promised me.

Vachel Lindsay