An Indian Summer Day On The Prairie
Vachel Lindsay
(In the Beginning)
The sun is a huntress young,
The sun is a red, red joy,
The sun is an Indian girl,
Of the tribe of the Illinois.
(Mid-morning)
The sun is a smouldering fire,
That creeps through the high gray plain,
And leaves not a bush of cloud
To blossom with flowers of rain.
(Noon)
The sun is a wounded deer,
That treads pale grass in the skies,
Shaking his golden horns,
Flashing his baleful eyes.
(Sunset)
The sun is an eagle old,
There in the windless west.
Atop of the spirit-cliffs
He builds him a crimson nest.
Next 10 Poems
- Vachel Lindsay : At Mass
- Vachel Lindsay : Beyond The Moon
- Vachel Lindsay : Blanche Sweet
- Vachel Lindsay : Buddha
- Vachel Lindsay : By The Spring, At Sunset
- Vachel Lindsay : Caught In A Net
- Vachel Lindsay : Crickets On A Strike
- Vachel Lindsay : Darling Daughter Of Babylon
- Vachel Lindsay : Drying Their Wings
- Vachel Lindsay : Eden In Winter
Previous 10 Poems
- Vachel Lindsay : An Explanation Of The Grasshopper
- Vachel Lindsay : An Apology For The Bottle Volcanic
- Vachel Lindsay : An Account Of The Poem Games
- Vachel Lindsay : Alone In The Wind, On The Prairie
- Vachel Lindsay : Aladdin And The Jinn
- Vachel Lindsay : Abraham Lincoln Walks At Midnight
- Vachel Lindsay : Above The Battle's Front
- Vachel Lindsay : A Rhyme About An Electrical Advertising Sign
- Vachel Lindsay : A Prayer To All The Dead Among Mine Own People
- Vachel Lindsay : A Net To Snare The Moonlight
