Poem by Vachel Lindsay

How a Little Girl Sang

Ah, she was music in herself, 
A symphony of joyousness. 
She sang, she sang from finger tips, 
From every tremble of her dress. 
I saw sweet haunting harmony, 
An ecstasy, an ecstasy, 
In that strange curling of her lips, 
That happy curling of her lips. 
And quivering with melody 
Those eyes I saw, that tossing head. 

And so I saw what music was, 
Tho’ still accursed with ears of lead.

1. The Haughty Snail-King
2. A Prayer to All the Dead among Mine Own People
3. The Potatoes’ Dance
4. Sweet Briars of the Stairways
5. The Light o’ the Moon

Print

1600 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version