Poem by Vachel Lindsay

Drying Their Wings

 What the Carpenter Said

THE moon's a cottage with a door.
Some folks can see it plain.
Look, you may catch a glint of light,
A sparkle through the pane,
Showing the place is brighter still
Within, though bright without.
There, at a cosy open fire
Strange babes are grouped about.
The children of the wind and tide--
The urchins of the sky,
Drying their wings from storms and things
So they again can fly. 

1. Sweet Briars of the Stairways
2. The Haughty Snail-King
3. Upon Returning to the Country Road
4. The Master of the Dance
5. The Leaden-Eyed

Print

1272 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version