The Illinois Village (Vachel Lindsay Poems)
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones ...
O you who lose the art of hope, Whose temples seem to shrine a lie, Whose sidewalks are but stones ...
Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine, the yellowing ash, all the trees are gone, and I was older than all ...
There dwelt a widow learned and devout, Behind our hamlet on the eastern hill. Three sons she had, who went ...
The first purple wisteria I recall from boyhood hung on a wire outside the windows of the breakfast room next ...
Here, where the noises of the busy town, The ocean's plunge and roar can enter not, We stand and gaze ...
You pull over to the shoulder of the two-lane road and sit for a moment wondering where you were going ...
The fervent, pale-faced Mother ere she sleep, Looks out upon the zigzag-lighted square, The beautiful bare trees, the blue night-air, ...
I LOOK on the specious electrical light Blatant, mechanical, crawling and white, Wickedly red or malignantly green Like the beads ...
My crippled sense fares bow'd along His uncompanioned way, And wronged by death pays life with wrong And I wake ...
Success is speaking words of praise, In cheering other people's ways. In doing just the best you can, With every ...
I asked God for strength, that I might achieve, I was made weak, that I might humbly obey. I asked ...
Life, sometimes so wearying Is worth its weight in gold The experience of traveling Lends a wisdom that is old ...
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