Comments about Vachel Lindsay

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LadySanFrancisc: Dance then, wild guests of 'Frisco, Yellow, bronze, white and red! Dance by the golden gateway — Dance, tho' he smite you dead! Vachel Lindsay

spetersartist: Wheels and wheels and wheels spin by In the spring that still is sweet. But the flower-fed buffaloes of the spring Left us, long ago. - Vachel Lindsay Poem:

gracebauerpoet: I was corrected by my colleague, Tom Gannon. It was Joyce Kilmer, not Vachel Lindsay who wrote about trees and fools and poems. I wasn't even April fooling with that error.

gracebauerpoet: "Poems are made by fools like me," said Vachel Lindsay. Is it a coincidence that National Poetry Month begins on April Fools Day?

dajmeyer: We just watched Dead Poets Society with Ms12, “I need a teacher like that!” (I’m amused that the boys chant Vachel Lindsay’s “Congo” in the movie — although that is realistic for 1959, I don’t think it would be included were the movie made now rather than in 1989.)

msdiglib: Gulf Park College for Women: Letter, Vachel Lindsay to Zim; 29 September 1924.

JohnDryden85: Bryan! Anyone who hasn't done so, PLEASE take a half-hour today to read Vachel Lindsay's wonderful poem. Never has the political enthusiasm of youth been more gloriously celebrated.

UrbanAdvSquad: Hughes was already a poet, well connected w/ writers & literati in New York City, but his career did not fully take off until he met Vachel Lindsay--a well known American spoken word poet--at the Marriott. Hughes was working as a busboy at the hotel when he recognized Lindsay.

GTANRM_KIM: You can't crush ideas by suppressing them. You can only crush them by ignoring them. -Vachel Lindsay MORE PROJECTS ForTANRONCAL

tus_97: Never be a cynic, even a gentle one. Never help out a sneer, even at the devil. " VACHEL LINDSAY

moranstx: A poem for today: Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight by Vachel Lindsay Read more here:

No_way_but_this: The Dandelion Vachel Lindsay 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.

imaginativecons: “Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight” (poem by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay)

WinstonElliott3: “Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight” (poem by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay)

hollyvee: “When men work for the high degrees in the universities, they labor on a piece of literary conspiracy called a thesis which no one outside the university hears of again” —Vachel Lindsay in 1915, attacking me personally

SpaltLisa: "He shall ever be named the dog-man. His tone of voice was such, that, to speak in metaphor, he bit me in the throat. He refused me a place in his white kennel. He would not share his dog-biscuit." Vachel Lindsay: A Handy Guide for Beggars

Nant_ODele: "Let not young souls be smothered out Before they do quaint deeds And fully flaunt their pride . . ." Vachel Lindsay

jgerrish: Extra Credit time everybody!!! Let's compare thematic elements of Tom Waits' "Way Down in the Hole" (as heard on The Wire) with Vachel Lindsay's The Congo. Yay tailored learning / teaching! Ugh, I just wanted to sit around with loved ones playing board games.

henryghenrik: I woke up at 3 am last night and was convinced that this cute compact little paperback poem is the microcosmic exemplar of American long poem. “Contains” Joyce, Pound, Melville, Dante, Homer... even Vachel Lindsay

labuzamovies: ::sees fascists marching into Paris:: This is Vachel Lindsay on steroids.

Souchousama: Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931): "The invention of the photoplay is as great a step as was the beginning of picture-writing in the stone age. And the cave-men and women of our slums seem to be the people most affected by this novelty,

PatrickKerin1: A Christmas poem by Vachel Lindsay

mclay007: Except the Christ be born again tonight, in dreams of all men, saints, and sons of shame, The world will never see his kingdom bright. ~Vachel Lindsay

mclay007: Except the Christ be born again tonight, in dreams of all men, saints, and sons of shame, The world will never see his kingdom bright. ~Vachel Lindsay

mclay007: Except the Christ be born again tonight, in dreams of all men, saints, and sons of shame, The world will never see his kingdom bright. ~Vachel Lindsay

LauraLNagle: So proud of my choir for making new music, even this year! Be sure to check out the world premiere, via virtual choir, of Francisco Carbonell’s “Heart of God,” a gorgeous setting of a Vachel Lindsay poem (starting at minute 36).

Tina69911364: O nowhere, golden nowhere! Sages and fools go on To your chaotic ocean, To your tremendous dawn. Far in your fair dream-haven, Is nothing or is all.. They press on, singing, sowing Wild deeds without recall Vachel Lindsay

NoahSabich: “In a whirlwind world, independent languor becomes a virtue, and meditation engenders a finer art than any nervousness.” - Vachel Lindsay, The Golden Book of Springfield

BAD_ACID_LABS: When she was around six-years-old, Louise Glück's two favorite poems were Robert Burns' "The Little Black Boy," and Stephen Foster's "Swanee River." But, by the age of twelve, the future Nobel Laureate's tastes had matured, as she fell in love with Vachel Lindsay's "The Congo."

ZachWeiner: Today I learned of the Poem The Congo, by Vachel Lindsay. Beautiful use of words, though it's about as awkward as you'd expect of a white American imagining Africa circa 1911. But check out what he has said about King Leopold, then only dead two years:

DrEades: RIP Vachel Lindsay, one of my favorite poets, who, overwhelmed by despair, killed himself 89 years ago today by drinking a bottle of Lysol.

John1954Moi: Vachel Lindsay took his own life on this day in 1931... The Leaden-Eyed (Vachel Lindsay)

jlorts: "Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Mumbo . . . Jumbo . . . will . . . hoo-doo . . . you." --Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931) Vachel Lindsay, we need your kind of wisdom here today.

allanbonner: Pandemic poetry corner - Euclid by Vachel Lindsay

tikiram18: You can't crush ideas by suppressing them. You can only crush them by ignoring them. -Vachel Lindsay FRANKIANAS GIVEBACKon24th

DuffySends: Never be a cynic, even a gentle one. Never help out a sneer, even at the devil. Vachel Lindsay (1879 - 1931)

LoveCarousel: My Lady Is Compared to a Young Tree by Vachel Lindsay

CatholicPods: BDAY: American poet Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931). Founder of modern singing poetry, in which verses are meant to be sung or chanted. His most famous poem "The Congo" is understandably controversial and undeniably powerful. Listen to him chant:

cowboycoleridge: The Lovers’ Chronicle 10 November – dream noir, verse by mac tag – art by William Hogarth – Verdi’s La forza del destino – birth of Vachel Lindsay

NORTHTRENTON: Happy Birthday to Richard Armstedt (d. 1931), Heinrich XXVII (d. 1928), Gichin Funakoshi (d. 1957), Gaetano Bresci (d. 1901), Winston Churchill (d. 1947), Henri Rabaud (d. 1949), Idabelle Smith Firestone (d. 1954), Cy Morgan (d. 1962) and Vachel Lindsay (d. 1931).

RayBoomhower: “I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness. I, the unloving, say life should be lovely. I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.” Vachel Lindsay, born on this day in 1879

cowboycoleridge: I will not be a slave to my yesterday. I am creator, not a parrot. - Vachel Lindsay

cowboycoleridge: Star of my heart, I follow from afar. Sweet Love on high, lead on where shepherds are, Where Time is not, and only dreamers are. - Vachel Lindsay

cowboycoleridge: "The only thing that a man may do that is new, is to write himself on human hearts." - Vachel Lindsay

BricksBooks: Born on this date American Poet, Vachel Lindsay. One of his books is "Art Of The Moving".

ARTSalamode: "...The sun is a wounded deer, That treads pale grass in the skies, Shaking his golden horns, Flashing his baleful eyes..." Vachel Lindsay

Book_Addict: Happy birthday to performance poet Vachel Lindsay (November 10, 1879), author of the poem "The Congo" (1914).

RayBoomhower: "Authors and uncaptured criminals are the only people free from routine." Vachel Lindsay

matthewjdowd: Happy bday poet Vachel Lindsay, b. 1879, Springfield, IL. “I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness. I, the unloving, say life should be lovely. I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.”

ModernLibrary: Vachel Lindsay, born November 10, 1879. "I will not be a slave to my yesterday. I am creator, not a parrot."

mach_land: Today's Birthday: Vachel Lindsay (1879)

ssvikings: Vachel Lindsay

MariaAnna80: Today's Birthday: Vachel Lindsay

John1954Moi: Vachel Lindsay was born on this day (10 November) in 1879... The Leaden-Eyed (Vachel Lindsay)

Auberon_Quin: Someday, maybe soon, America will go completely away and leave me alone with my Emerson Essays, Vachel Lindsay records, Winslow Homer prints, etc

rajoyceUCB: —Vachel Lindsay, "Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket”

VoicebeforeVoid: “Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket” by Vachel Lindsay

Kameles7: The Potatoes’ Dance, Childcraft Vol. 2,1942, written by Vachel Lindsay

RealTuckerVC: I think he's right, but who can understand George Will these days? I read his work as a parlor game to see if I get any of his obscure cultural references - like Poet Vachel Lindsay & a 1935 movie called Alibi Ike. WTF???

Eltonreadsalot: Going-to-the-Sun by Vachel Lindsay via /r/FreeEBOOKS

tufre80: Only boys keep their cheeks dry. Only boys are afraid to cry. Men thank God for their tears. -- Rain, Vachel Lindsay

rhianna: Going-to-the-Sun by Vachel Lindsay

ForgottenBeauty: 2/2 She drove me to her parlor Above her winding stair. To educate young spiders She took me all apart. My ghost came back to haunt her. I saw her eat my heart. —Vachel Lindsay The Spider and the Fly -Arthur Rackham

_raven_mack_: SONG OF THE DAY: Don't Take Her (She's All I Got): Just a freestyle sonnet today, about love, love lost, inspired by Swamp Dogg's crazy ass and reading about walking poet Vachel Lindsay. Tethers so tight, yet familiar, begin to feel like the comforts of…

books_in_pants: Vachel Lindsay; a Poet in America in your pants

day_ryms: You have to hold this amazing tension of being totally self-serious and devoted but at the same time recognize you're a fool and doing something extremely embarrassing. Spicer said Vachel Lindsay said a poet has to be a vaudeville act, I totally agree, and an amateur one at that

LivingKindness: "I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness." — Vachel Lindsay ^

meganwillome: David's Tea buddha's blend white & By Heart: 'The Dandelion' by Vachel Lindsay

BBolander: vachel lindsay definitely getting 1909 twitterbanned for that one

KatNuernberger: Frank O'Hara's Personism manifesto never disappoints. "I hate Vachel Lindsay, always have, I don't even like rhythm, asdonance, all that stuff. You just go on your nerve."

dblight: For those of you who think sheer emotion will carry a populist presidential candidate to victory, I urge them to read Vachel Lindsay's magnificent poem, "Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan".

LoveCarousel: My Lady Is Compared to a Young Tree by Vachel Lindsay

LivingKindness: "I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness." — Vachel Lindsay ^

LivingKindness: "I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life's unkind, but I can vote for kindness." — Vachel Lindsay ^

LJMayorgaG: To Lindsay. Allen Ginsberg. VACHEL, the stars are out dusk has fallen on the Colorado road a car crawls slowly a cross the plain in the dim light the radio bares its jazz the heartbroken sales man lights another cigarette In another city 27 years ago I see your shadow on the wall

NoahSabich: “In a whirlwind world, independent languor becomes a virtue, and meditation engenders a finer art than any nervousness.” - Vachel Lindsay, The Golden Book of Springfield

MarcDuvoisin: Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the world’s one crime its babes grow dull --Vachel Lindsay, "The Leaden-Eyed"

OakhamUK: The Golden Whales of California Vachel Lindsay Hardback 1920 with press cutting

pgbirk: The Leaden-Eyed by Vachel Lindsay

deepwildjournal: Rick, our EIC, heading out next week to my very own heaven-on-earth in the Tetons, on my 48th (!) anniversary hike, with vagabond poet Vachel Lindsay’s words on his tongue: Going tramping again, Going to the mountains, To recapture the stars,

sangamonlink: ICYMI: “The Golden Book of Springfield,” Vachel Lindsay’s only novel, was published in 1920. It was the poet’s utopian vision of what Springfield, Illinois, might be like a century later. Vachel got a lot wrong. On SangamonLink:

CailinCeltic: This cup of peace,this silver rose Bending with fairy breath Shall lift that passion-flower,the earth A million times from Death! The Rose Of Midnight - Vachel Lindsay Images -Google PicFinder

tak_jord: I fixed Vachel Lindsay's The Congo

ElectricLit: "I thought of our neighbor Vachel Lindsay drinking Lysol just a few miles north, the taxmen circling his childhood home too, bankruptcy buried like turnips forever across the fields scaffolding Springfield."

Profepps: “We have buried him now,” thought your foes, and in secret rejoiced. They made a brave show of their mourning, their hatred unvoiced. They had snarled at you, barked at you, foamed at you day after day, Now you were ended. They praised you . . . and laid you away.Vachel Lindsay

mariecarnes: In this, the city of my discontent, Sometimes there comes a whisper from the grass... -- Vachel Lindsay on Springfield

purpIeraiin: 10. Está repleta de referencias literarias. Entre ellas tenemos una línea de Walden por Henry David Thoreau: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Un poema de Vachel Lindsay, The Congo: “Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cutting through the forest

kevblue777: The sun is an eagle old, There in the windless west. Atop of the spirit-cliffs He builds him a crimson nest. –Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931)

everwood_lynn: The sun is an eagle old, There in the windless west. Atop of the spirit-cliffs He builds him a crimson nest. –Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931)

OccultFan: The sun is an eagle old, There in the windless west. Atop of the spirit-cliffs He builds him a crimson nest. –Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931)

platospupil: The sun is an eagle old, There in the windless west. Atop of the spirit-cliffs He builds him a crimson nest. –Vachel Lindsay (1879–1931) from the Old Farmer's Almanac newsletter

TanjaBoness: 3/ She was courted by two men in 1913: Ernst Filsinger and Vachel Lindsay. Lindsay feared he would not be able to provide enough money to keep Teasdale satisfied, but he truly loved her.

IJ_M429: I2: Vachel Lindsay

zatonietzsche: Is now not a good time to revive the poetry of Vachel Lindsay? "Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom..."

NoEmojiForThis: There's no emoji for nicholas vachel lindsay

lgbt_music: Percy was a ❤️MAJOR HOTTIE❤️; he stole the hearts of many including both Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg and American poet Vachel Lindsay.

Hypnogoria: A little chill for a summer night, a weird verse from poet Vachel Lindsay that may make you think twice before wandering by cornfields after sunset...

marucasta: "THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel in derision. THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK". Dead Poet Society movie chant of The Congo by Vachel Lindsay

Hypnogoria: FROM THE GREAT LIBRARY OF DREAMS 015 - What the Scarecrow Said by Vachel Lindsay A little chill for a summer night, a weird verse from poet Vachel Lindsay that may make you think twice before wandering by cornfields after sunset...

dushkewich: "The Congo" a Poem on the Negro Race.. by Vachel LINDSAY by Poetry Fiction ..



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Thomas Moore Poem
Lay His Sword By His Side
 by Thomas Moore

Lay his sword by his side -- it hath served him too well
Not to rest near his pillow below;
To the last moment true, from his hand ere it fell,
Its point was still turn'd to a flying foe.
Fellow-labourers in life, let them slumber in death,
Side by side, as becomes the reposing brave --
That sword which he loved still unbroke in its sheath,
And himself unsubdued in his grave.
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