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. |
3. |
1. | I |
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 | ||
I
O prodigal son, O recreant daughter,When broken by the death of a child
You called for the graybeard Campbellite elder,
Who spoke as of old in the wild.
His voice held echoes of the deep woods of Kentucky.
He towered in apostolic state,
While the portrait of Campbell emerged from the dark:
That genius beautiful and great.
And millennial trumpets poised, half lifted,
Millennial trumpets that wait.
Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | ||