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Full Online Book HomePoemsSweethearts Of The Year
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Sweethearts Of The Year Post by :boniellos Category :Poems Author :Vachel Lindsay Date :March 2011 Read :2682

Click below to download : Sweethearts Of The Year (Format : PDF)

Sweethearts Of The Year

Sweetheart Spring

Our Sweetheart, Spring, came softly,
Her gliding hands were fire,
Her lilac breath upon our cheeks
Consumed us with desire.

By her our God began to build,
Began to sow and till.
He laid foundations in our loves
For every good and ill.
We asked Him not for blessing,
We asked Him not for pain--
Still, to the just and unjust
He sent His fire and rain.

Sweetheart Summer

We prayed not, yet she came to us,
The silken, shining one,
On Jacob's noble ladder
Descended from the sun.
She reached our town of Every Day,
Our dry and dusty sod--
We prayed not, yet she brought to us
The misty wine of God.

Sweetheart Autumn

The woods were black and crimson,
The frost-bit flowers were dead,
But Sweetheart Indian Summer came
With love-winds round her head.
While fruits God-given and splendid
Belonged to her domain:
Baskets of corn in perfect ear
And grapes with purple stain,
The treacherous winds persuaded her
Spring Love was in the wood
Altho' the end of love was hers--
Fruition, Motherhood.

Sweetheart Winter

We had done naught of service
To win our Maker's praise.
Yet Sweetheart Winter came to us
To gild our waning days.
Down Jacob's winding ladder
She came from Sunshine Town,
Bearing the sparkling mornings
And clouds of silver-brown;
Bearing the seeds of Springtime.
Upon her snowy seas
Bearing the fairy star-flowers
For baby Christmas trees.

(The end)
Vachel Lindsay's poem: Sweethearts Of The Year

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The Sorceress! The Sorceress!

The Sorceress!
I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp Hidden anywhere?" "Look into your heart," she said, "Aladdin's lamp is there." She took my heart with glowing hands. It burned to dust and air And smoke and rolling thistledown Blowing everywhere. "Follow the thistledown," she said, "Till doomsday, if you dare, Over the hills and far away. Aladdin's lamp is there."(The end)Vachel Lindsay's poem: Sorceress!

The Tree Of Laughing Bells, Or The Wings Of The Morning The Tree Of Laughing Bells, Or The Wings Of The Morning

The Tree Of Laughing Bells, Or The Wings Of The Morning
(A Poem for Aviators) How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many pansy buds Gathered in the shade, From lily of the valley And dandelion buds, From fiery poppy-buds Are the Wings of the Morning made.  The Indian Girl Who Made Them These, the Wings of the Morning, An Indian Maiden wove, Intertwining subtilely Wands from a willow grove Beside the Sangamon-- Rude stream of Dreamland Town. She bound them to my shoulders With fingers golden-brown.