Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay revised and illustrated edition |
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THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS |
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 | Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay |  |
THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS
In Heaven, if not on earth,
You and I will be dancing.
I will whirl you over my head,
A torch and a flag and a bird,
A hawk that loves my shoulder,
A dove with plumes outspread.
We will whirl for God when the trumpets
Speak the millennial word.
You and I will be dancing.
I will whirl you over my head,
A torch and a flag and a bird,
A hawk that loves my shoulder,
A dove with plumes outspread.
We will whirl for God when the trumpets
Speak the millennial word.
We will howl in praise of God,
Dervish and young cyclone.
We will ride in the joy of God
On circus horses white.
Your feet will be white lightning,
Your spangles white and regal,
We will leap from the horses' backs
To the cliffs of day and night.
Dervish and young cyclone.
We will ride in the joy of God
On circus horses white.
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Your spangles white and regal,
We will leap from the horses' backs
To the cliffs of day and night.
We will have our rest in the pits of sleep
When the darkness leaps upon us,
And buries us for æons
Till we rise like grass in the spring.
We will come like dandelions,
Like buttercups and crocuses,
And all the winter of our sleep
But make us storm and sing.
When the darkness leaps upon us,
And buries us for æons
Till we rise like grass in the spring.
We will come like dandelions,
Like buttercups and crocuses,
And all the winter of our sleep
But make us storm and sing.
We will tumble like swift foam
On the wave-crests of old ghostland,
And dance on the crafts of doom,
And wrestle on the moon.
And Saturn and his triple ring
Will be our tinsel circus,
Till all sad wraiths of yesterday
With the stars rejoice and croon.
On the wave-crests of old ghostland,
And dance on the crafts of doom,
And wrestle on the moon.
And Saturn and his triple ring
Will be our tinsel circus,
Till all sad wraiths of yesterday
With the stars rejoice and croon.
O dancer, love undying,
My soul, my swan, my eagle,
The first of our million dancing years
Dawns, dawns soon.
My soul, my swan, my eagle,
The first of our million dancing years
Dawns, dawns soon.
| Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | |