The Sorceress!

    I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
    Hidden anywhere?"
    "Look into your heart," she said,
    "Aladdin's lamp is there."

    She took my heart with glowing hands.
    It burned to dust and air
    And smoke and rolling thistledown
    Blowing everywhere.

    "Follow the thistledown," she said,
    "Till doomsday, if you dare,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Aladdin's lamp is there."

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

An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Raft

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

We Meet At The Judgment And I Fear It Not

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

Yankee Doodle

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

English

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Aladdin and the Jinn

    "Bring me soft song," said Aladdin.
    "This tailor-shop sings not at all.
    Chant me a word of the twilight,
    Of roses that mourn in the fall.
    Bring me a song like hashish
    That will comfort the stale and the sad,
    For I would be mending my spirit,
    Forgetting these days that are bad,
    Forgetting companions too shallow,
    Their quarrels and arguments thin,
    Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:" -
    "I AM YOUR SLAVE," said the Jinn.

    "Bring me old wines," said Aladdin.
    "I have been a starved pauper too long.
    Serve them in vessels of jade and of shell,
    Serve them with fruit and with song: -
    Wines of pre-Adamite Sultans
    Digged from beneath the black seas: -
    New-gathered dew from the heavens<...

Vachel Lindsay

Parvenu

Where does Cinderella sleep?
By far-off day-dream river.
A secret place her burning Prince
Decks, while his heart-strings quiver.

Homesick for our cinder world,
Her low-born shoulders shiver;
She longs for sleep in cinders curled -
We, for the day-dream river.

Vachel Lindsay

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

Springfield Magical

    In this, the City of my Discontent,
    Sometimes there comes a whisper from the grass,
    "Romance, Romance - is here.    No Hindu town
    Is quite so strange.    No Citadel of Brass
    By Sinbad found, held half such love and hate;
    No picture-palace in a picture-book
    Such webs of Friendship, Beauty, Greed and Fate!"

    In this, the City of my Discontent,
    Down from the sky, up from the smoking deep
    Wild legends new and old burn round my bed
    While trees and grass and men are wrapped in sleep.
    Angels come down, with Christmas in their hearts,
    Gentle, whimsical, laughing, heaven-sent;
    And, for a day, fair Peace have given me
    In this, the City of my Discontent!

Vachel Lindsay

Aladdin

Versified by Clara Doty Bates


I see a little group about my chair,
Lovers of stories all!
First, Saxon Edith, of the corn-silk hair,
Growing so strong and tall!

Then little brother, on whose sturdy face
Soft baby dimples fly,
As fear or pleasure give each other place
When wonders multiply;

Then Gold-locks--summers nine their goldenest
Have showered on her head,
And tinted it, of all the colors best,
Warm robin-red breast red;

Then, close at hand, on lowly haunches set,
With pricked up, tasseled ear,
Is Tony, little cleared-eyed spaniel pet,
Waiting, like them, to hear.

I say I have no story--all are told!
Not to be daunted thus,
They only crowd more confident and bold,
And laugh, incredulous.

A...

Clara Doty Bates

The Path To Faery

I

When dusk falls cool as a rained-on rose,
And a tawny tower the twilight shows,
With the crescent moon, the silver moon, the curved
new moon in a space that glows,
A turret window that grows alight;
There is a path that my Fancy knows,
A glimmering, shimmering path of night,
That far as the Land of Faery goes.

II

And I follow the path, as Fancy leads,
Over the mountains, into the meads,
Where the firefly cities, the glowworm cities, the faery
cities are strung like beads,
Each city a twinkling star:
And I live a life of valorous deeds,
And march with the Faery King to war,
And ride with his knights on milk-white steeds.

III

Or it's there in the whirl of their life I sit,
Or dance in their houses with starligh...

Madison Julius Cawein