We Meet At The Judgment And I Fear It Not

    Though better men may fear that trumpet's warning,
    I meet you, lady, on the Judgment morning,
    With golden hope my spirit still adorning.

    Our God who made you all so fair and sweet
    Is three times gentle, and before his feet
    Rejoicing I shall say: - "The girl you gave
    Was my first Heaven, an angel bent to save.
    Oh, God, her maker, if my ingrate breath
    Is worth this rescue from the Second Death,
    Perhaps her dear proud eyes grow gentler too
    That scorned my graceless years and trophies few.
    Gone are those years, and gone ill-deeds that turned
    Her sacred beauty from my songs that burned.
    We now as comrades through the stars may take
    The rich and arduous quests I did forsake.
    Grant me a seraph-guide to thread the throng
    And quickly find that woman-soul so strong.
    I dream that in her deeply-hidden heart
    Hurt love lived on, though we were far apart,
    A brooding secret mercy like your own
    That blooms to-day to vindicate your throne.

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

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

An Apology for the Bottle Volcanic

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Encyclopaedia

Vachel Lindsay, Simple Poetry

The Gamblers

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.

Our Guardian Angels and Their Children

Where a river roars in rapids
And doves in maples fret,
Where peace has decked the pastures
Our guardian angels met.

Long they had sought each other
In God's mysterious name,
Had climbed the solemn chaos tides
Alone, with hope aflame:

Amid the demon deeps had wound
By many a fearful way.
As they beheld each other
Their shout made glad the day.

No need of purse delayed them,
No hand of friend or kin -
Nor menace of the bell and book,
Nor fear of mortal sin.

You did not speak, my girl,
At this, our parting hour.
Long we held each other
And watched their deeds of power.

They made a curious Eden.
We saw that it was good.
We thought with them in unison.
We proudly understood

Their amaranth ...

Vachel Lindsay

The Woman Answers.

What will I say when face to face with God
My naked soul shall come, seared with the stain
That men call sin? Why, God will understand;
He knew my pitiful story long before
My frail dust quickened with the breath of life;
He knew the mystery of that day of days
When, thrilled with virgin wonder, I should come
Bearing the lily of my stainless love
To plant upon the desert of desire.
I do not fear His judgment; He knows all.

I do not fear His judgment lest it be
That I shall look no more upon his face
Who taught my heart to love; and, surely, One
Who wrought a perfect note from these poor strings
Will not condemn to discord when the strain
Has reached the fullness of its harmony.

I do not fear His judgment, but I weep
For him who slew the lily w...

Charles Hamilton Musgrove

The Convent Threshold

There's blood between us, love, my love,
There's father's blood, there's brother's blood;
And blood's a bar I cannot pass:
I choose the stairs that mount above,
Stair after golden skyward stair,
To city and to sea of glass.
My lily feet are soiled with mud,
With scarlet mud which tells a tale
Of hope that was, of guilt that was,
Of love that shall not yet avail;
Alas, my heart, if I could bare
My heart, this selfsame stain is there:
I seek the sea of glass and fire
To wash the spot, to burn the snare;
Lo, stairs are meant to lift us higher:
Mount with me, mount the kindled stair.

    Your eyes look earthward, mine look up.
I see the far-off city grand,
Beyond the hills a watered land,
Beyond the gulf a gleaming strand
Of mansions wher...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

The Hope of the Resurrection

    Though I have watched so many mourners weep
    O'er the real dead, in dull earth laid asleep -
    Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days
    That passed and left me in the sun's bright rays.
    Now though you go on smiling in the sun
    Our love is slain, and love and you were one.
    You are the first, you I have known so long,
    Whose death was deadly, a tremendous wrong.
    Therefore I seek the faith that sets it right
    Amid the lilies and the candle-light.
    I think on Heaven, for in that air so clear
    We two may meet, confused and parted here.
    Ah, when man's dearest dies, 'tis then he goes
    To that old balm that heals the centuries' woes.
    Then Christ's wild cry in all the streets is rife: -
    "I am the Resurrection and th...

Vachel Lindsay

To A Lady.

Suggested By Hearing Her Voice During Services At Church.

At night, in visions, when my soul drew near
    The shadowy confines of the spirit land,
Wild, wondrous notes of song have met my ear,
    Wrung from their harps by many a seraph's hand;
And forms of light, too, more divinely fair
    Than Mercy's messenger to hearts that mourn,
On wings that made sweet music in the air,
    Have round me, in those hours of bliss, been borne,
And, filled with joy unutterable, I
Have deemed myself a born child of the sky.

And often, too, at sunset's magic hour,
    When musing by some solitary stream,
While thought awoke in its resistless pow'r,
    And restless Fancy wove her brightest dream:
Mysterious tongues, that were not of the earth,
    Have whispere...

George W. Sands

The Wages Of Sin.

I am an outcast, sinful and vile I know,
But what are you, my lady, so fair, and proud, and high?
The fringe of your robe just touched me, me so low -
Your feet defiled, I saw the scorn in your eye,
And the jeweled hand, that drew back your garments fine.
What should you say if I told you to your face
Your robes are dyed with as deep a stain as mine,
The only difference is you are better paid for disgrace.

You loved a man, you promised to be his bride,
Strong vows you gave, you were in the sight of Heaven his wife,
And when you sold yourself for another's wealth, he died;
And what is that but murder?    To take a life
That is a little beyond my guilt, I ween,
To murder the one you love is a crime of deeper grade
Than mine, yet in purple you walk on the earth a que...

Marietta Holley