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

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

Here's to the Mice!

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

Darling Daughter of Babylon

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Master of the Dance

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

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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

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

Merrymind

Merrymind, Merrymind, whither art thou roaming?
Merrymind, Merrymind, nay, art thou sleeping yet?
Oh, to us, sweet minstrel dear, wilt thou not be homing?
Or we shall forget.

Vale of toil so waste and drear, hear him now advancing,
Playing on the golden strings, the midnight maidens boon;
Breaks the sunshine on the hills, the princess falls to dancing
In a bridal noon!

Oh, the joyfulness and kissing of that fiddles flowings,
Giving rest and happiness, and laughter delicate!
Fling out from this iron world to his merry bowings,
Oh, be not too late!

Lancelot, Lancelot, ride with song and gleaming
Robin, wind in greenwood shaw thy dreaming silvery horn,
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair a-beaming,
Yellow as the corn!

Pride, begone, th...

James Hebblethwaite

London Voluntaries - To Charles Whibley - III - Scherzando

Down through the ancient Strand
The spirit of October, mild and boon
And sauntering, takes his way
This golden end of afternoon,
As though the corn stood yellow in all the land,
And the ripe apples dropped to the harvest-moon.

Lo! the round sun, half-down the western slope -
Seen as along an unglazed telescope -
Lingers and lolls, loth to be done with day:
Gifting the long, lean, lanky street
And its abounding confluences of being
With aspects generous and bland;
Making a thousand harnesses to shine
As with new ore from some enchanted mine,
And every horse's coat so full of sheen
He looks new-tailored, and every 'bus feels clean,
And never a hansom but is worth the feeing;
And every jeweller within the pale
Offers a real Arabian Night for sale;...

William Ernest Henley