poem index


Vachel Lindsay

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by this poet


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

Friends, I will not cease hoping though you weep. 
Such things I see, and some of them shall come, 
Though now or streets are harsh and ashen-gray, 
Though our strong youths are strident now, or dumb. 
Friends, that sweet town, that wonder-town, shall rise. 
Naught can delay it. Though it may not be 
Just as I
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