These, the Wings of the Morning,
An Indian Maiden wove,
Intertwining subtilely
Wands from a willow grove
Beside the Sangamon -
Rude stream of Dreamland Town.
She bound them to my shoulders
With fingers golden-brown.
The wings were part of me;
The willow-wands were hot.
Pulses from my heart
Healed each bruise and spot
Of the morning-glory buds,
Beginning to unfold
Beneath her burning song of suns untold.
The Indian Girl Who Made Them (comes After: The Tree Of Laughing Bells, Or The Wings Of The Morning)
Vachel Lindsay
(1)
Poem topics: heart, song, town, brown, golden, indian, beneath, bound, stream, morning, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Indian Girl Who Made Them (comes After: The Tree Of Laughing Bells, Or The Wings Of The Morning) poem by Vachel Lindsay
Best Poems of Vachel Lindsay