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

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 Black Hawk War of the Artists

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

An Argument

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

By the Spring, at Sunset

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Jingo and the Minstrel

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

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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

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 - 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

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

My Lady in her White Silk Shawl

    My lady in her white silk shawl
        Is like a lily dim,
    Within the twilight of the room
        Enthroned and kind and prim.

    My lady!    Pale gold is her hair.
        Until she smiles her face
    Is pale with far Hellenic moods,
        With thoughts that find no place

    In our harsh village of the West
        Wherein she lives of late,
    She's distant as far-hidden stars,
        And cold - (almost!) - as fate.

    But when she smiles she's here again
        Rosy with comrade-cheer,
    A Puritan Bacchante made
        To laugh around the year.

    The merry gentle moon herself,
        Heart-stirring too, like her,
    Wakening wild and innocent love
        In every worshipper.

Vachel Lindsay

The Fairy Bridal Hymn

[This is the hymn to Eleanor, daughter of Mab and a golden drone, sung by the Locust choir when the fairy child marries her God, the yellow rose]



    This is a song to the white-armed one
    Cold in the breast as the frost-wrapped Spring,
    Whose feet are slow on the hills of life,
    Whose round mouth rules by whispering.

    This is a song to the white-armed one
    Whose breast shall burn as a Summer field,
    Whose wings shall rise to the doors of gold,
    Whose poppy lips to the God shall yield.

    This is a song to the white-armed one
    When the closing rose shall bind her fast,
    And a song of the song their blood shall sing,
    When the Rose-God drinks her soul at last.

Vachel Lindsay