Poem by Vachel Lindsay

The Cornfields

The cornfields rise above mankind, 
Lifting white torches to the blue, 
Each season not ashamed to be 
Magnificently decked for you. 

What right have you to call them yours, 
And in brute lust of riches burn 
Without some radiant penance wrought, 
Some beautiful, devout return?

1. What the Miner in the Desert Said
2. The King of Yellow Butterflies
3. Sweet Briars of the Stairways
4. A Prayer to All the Dead among Mine Own People
5. Written for a Musician

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