Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay revised and illustrated edition |
1. |
2. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
7. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
3. |
8. |
1. |
2. | II. Written in a Year When Many of My People Died
|
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
9. |
1. |
2. |
10. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
11. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | ||
II. Written in a Year When Many of My People Died
I have begun to count my dead.They wave green branches
Around my head,
Put their hands upon my shoulders,
354
Fly above me—
Presences that love me.
They watch me daily,
Murmuring, gravely, gaily,
Praising, reproving, readily.
And every year that company
Grows the greater steadily.
And every day I count my dead
In robes of sunrise, blue and red.
Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | ||