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The Horrid Voice of Science

Vachel Lindsay
"There's machinery in the 
      butterfly;
   There's a mainspring to the 
      bee;
There's hydraulics to a daisy,
   And contraptions to a tree.

"If we could see the birdie
      That makes the chirping sound
With x-ray, scientific eyes,
   We could see the wheels go 
   round."

And I hope all men
Who think like this
Will soon lie
Underground.

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Vachel Lindsay

by this poet

poem

When I see a young tree
In its white beginning,
With white leaves
And white buds
Barely tipped with green,
In the April weather,
In the weeping sunshine—
Then I see my lady,
My democratic queen,
Standing free and equal
With the youngest woodland sapling
Swaying

poem
O dandelion, rich and haughty,
King of village flowers!
Each day is coronation time,
You have no humble hours.
I like to see you bring a troop
To beat the blue-grass spears,
To scorn the lawn-mower that would be
Like fate's triumphant shears.
Your yellow heads are cut away,
It seems your reign is o'er.
By noon
poem
(In Springfield, Illinois)
 
It is portentous, and a thing of state   
That here at midnight, in our little town   
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,   
Near the old court-house pacing up and down,   
   
Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards
He lingers where his children used to play,   
Or