Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsThe Proud Farmer
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
The Proud Farmer Post by :FayeB Category :Poems Author :Vachel Lindsay Date :March 2011 Read :1642

Click below to download : The Proud Farmer (Format : PDF)

The Proud Farmer

(In memory of E. S. Frazee, Rush County, Indiana)

Into the acres of the newborn state
He poured his strength, and plowed his ancient name,
And, when the traders followed him, he stood
Towering above their furtive souls and tame.

That brow without a stain, that fearless eye
Oft left the passing stranger wondering
To find such knighthood in the sprawling land,
To see a democrat well-nigh a king.

He lived with liberal hand, with guests from far,
With talk and joke and fellowship to spare,--
Watching the wide world's life from sun to sun,
Lining his walls with books from everywhere.
He read by night, he built his world by day.
The farm and house of God to him were one.
For forty years he preached and plowed and wrought--
A statesman in the fields, who bent to none.

His plowmen-neighbors were as lords to him.
His was an ironside, democratic pride.
He served a rigid Christ, but served him well--
And, for a lifetime, saved the countryside.

Here lie the dead, who gave the church their best
Under his fiery preaching of the word.
They sleep with him beneath the ragged grass . . .
The village withers, by his voice unstirred.

And tho' his tribe be scattered to the wind
From the Atlantic to the China sea,
Yet do they think of that bright lamp he burned
Of family worth and proud integrity.

And many a sturdy grandchild hears his name
In reverence spoken, till he feels akin
To all the lion-eyed who built the world--
And lion-dreams begin to burn within.

(The end)
Vachel Lindsay's poem: Proud Farmer

If you like this book please share to your friends :

The Illinois Village The Illinois Village

The Illinois Village
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones of fear, Who weep that Liberty must die, Turn to the little prairie towns, Your higher hope shall yet begin. On every side awaits you there Some gate where glory enters in. Yet when I see the flocks of girls, Watching the Sunday train go thro' (As tho' the whole wide world went by) With eyes that long to travel too, I sigh, despite my soul made glad

The Song Of The Garden-toad The Song Of The Garden-toad

The Song Of The Garden-toad
Down, down beneath the daisy beds, O hear the cries of pain! And moaning on the cinder-path They're blind amid the rain. Can murmurs of the worms arise To higher hearts than mine? I wonder if that gardener hears Who made the mold all fine And packed each gentle seedling down So carefully in line? I watched the red rose reaching up To ask him if he heard Those cries that stung the evening earth Till all the rose-roots stirred. She asked him if he felt the