How A Little Girl Sang

Vachel Lindsay

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : How I Walked Alone In The Jungles Of Heaven
• Vachel Lindsay : How Samson Bore Away The Gates Of Gaza
• Vachel Lindsay : I Heard Immanuel Singing
• Vachel Lindsay : I Went Down Into The Desert
• Vachel Lindsay : In Memory Of A Child
• Vachel Lindsay : In Praise Of Gloriana's Remarkable Golden Hair
• Vachel Lindsay : In Praise Of Songs That Die
• Vachel Lindsay : Incense
• Vachel Lindsay : John Brown
• Vachel Lindsay : John Bunny, Motion Picture Comedian

Previous 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : How A Little Girl Danced
• Vachel Lindsay : Honor Among Scamps
• Vachel Lindsay : Here's To The Mice!
• Vachel Lindsay : Heart Of God
• Vachel Lindsay : God Send The Regicide
• Vachel Lindsay : Ghosts In Love
• Vachel Lindsay : Genesis
• Vachel Lindsay : General William Booth Enters Into Heaven
• Vachel Lindsay : Galahad, Knight Who Perished
• Vachel Lindsay : Foreign Missions In Battle Array