Poem by Vachel Lindsay

What the Coal-Heaver Said

The moon’s an open furnace door
Where all can see the blast,
We shovel in our blackest griefs,
Upon that grate are cast
Our aching burdens, loves and fears
And underneath them wait
Paper and tar and pitch and pine
Called strife and blood and hate.

Out of it all there comes a flame,
A splendid widening light.
Sorrow is turned to mystery
And Death into delight.

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

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