 | Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay |  |
WRITTEN FOR A MUSICIAN
Hungry for music with a desperate hungerI prowled abroad, I threaded through the town;
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Vulgar and pitiful—my heart bowed down—
Till I remembered duller hours made noble
By strangers clad in some surprising grace.
Wait, wait, my soul, your music comes ere midnight
Appearing in some unexpected place
With quivering lips, and gleaming, moonlit face.
| Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | |