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Vachel Lindsay (Вэчел Линдсей)


The Haughty Snail-King


Twelve snails went walking after night.
They’d creep an inch or so,
Then stop and bug their eyes
And blow.
Some folks . . . are . . . deadly . . . slow.
Twelve snails went walking yestereve,
Led by their fat old king.
They were so dull their princeling had
No sceptre, robe or ring—
Only a paper cap to wear
When nightly journeying.

This king-snail said: ”I feel a thought
Within. . . . It blossoms soon. . . .
O little courtiers of mine, . . .
I crave a pretty boo. . . .
Oh, yes . . . (High thoughts with effort come
And well-bred snails are ALMOST dumb.)
”I wish I had a yellow crown
As glistering . . . as . . . the moon.”



Vachel Lindsay's other poems:
  1. What the Miner in the Desert Said
  2. At Mass
  3. A Prayer to All the Dead among Mine Own People
  4. With a Bouquet of Twelve Roses
  5. The Illinois Village


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Английская поэзия