Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay revised and illustrated edition |
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WHAT THE GHOST OF THE GAMBLER SAID |
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Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | ||
WHAT THE GHOST OF THE GAMBLER SAID
Where now the huts are empty,Where never a camp-fire glows,
In an abandoned cañon,
A Gambler's Ghost arose.
247
Of dust.” His voice rose thin:
“I wish I knew the miner-man.
I'd play, and play to win.
In every game in Cripple-creek
Of old, when stakes were high,
I held my own. Now I would play
For that sack in the sky.
The sport would not be ended there.
'Twould rather be begun.
I'd bet my moon against his stars,
And gamble for the sun.
Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | ||