Vachel Lindsay

The North Star Whispers to the Blacksmith’s Son

THE North Star whispers: ”You are one 
Of those whose course no chance can change. 
You blunder, but are not undone, 
Your spirit-task is fixed and strange. 

”When here you walk, a bloodless shade, 
A singer all men else forget. 
Your chants of hammer, forge and spade 
Will move the prarie-village yet. 

”That young, stiff-necked, reviling town 
Beholds your fancies on her walls, 
And paints them out or tears them down, 
Or bars them from her feasting halls. 

”Yet shall the fragments still remain; 
Yet shall remain some watch-tower strong 
That ivy-vines will not disdain, 
Haunted and trembling with your song. 

”Your flambeau in the dusk shall burn, 
Flame high in storms, flame white and clear; 
Your ghost in gleaming robes return 
And burn a deathless incense here.”