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Vachel Lindsay (Вэчел Линдсей)


Drying Their Wings


 What the Carpenter Said

THE moon's a cottage with a door.
Some folks can see it plain.
Look, you may catch a glint of light,
A sparkle through the pane,
Showing the place is brighter still
Within, though bright without.
There, at a cosy open fire
Strange babes are grouped about.
The children of the wind and tide--
The urchins of the sky,
Drying their wings from storms and things
So they again can fly. 



Vachel Lindsay's other poems:
  1. The Merciful Hand
  2. When Gassy Thompson Struck It Rich
  3. The King of Yellow Butterflies
  4. Above the Battle’s Front
  5. What the Moon Saw


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Английская поэзия