Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan (Vachel Lindsay Poems)
IIn a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things ...
IIn a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things ...
A chant for a children's pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards. I saw a proud, ...
Would I might wake St. Francis in you all, Brother of birds and trees, God's Troubadour, Blinded with weeping for ...
Too soon you wearied of our tears. And then you danced with spangled feet, Leading Belshazzar's chattering court A-tinkling through ...
"Bring me soft song," said Aladdin. "This tailor-shop sings not at all. Chant me a word of the twilight, Of ...
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all, That which is gendered in the wilderness From lonely prairies and ...
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