The Old Horse In The City

Vachel Lindsay

The moon’s a peck of corn.  It lies
Heaped up for me to eat.
I wish that I might climb the path
And taste that supper sweet.

Men feed me straw and scanty grain
And beat me till I’m sore.
Some day I’ll break the halter-rope
And smash the stable-door,

Run down the street and mount the hill
Just as the corn appears.
I’ve seen it rise at certain times
For years and years and years.

Next 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : The Perfect Marriage
• Vachel Lindsay : The Potatoes' Dance
• Vachel Lindsay : The Potato's Dance
• Vachel Lindsay : The Prairie Battlements
• Vachel Lindsay : The Proud Farmer
• Vachel Lindsay : The Queen Of Bubbles
• Vachel Lindsay : The Raft
• Vachel Lindsay : The Rhymer's Reply. Incense And Splendor
• Vachel Lindsay : The Santa Fe Trail
• Vachel Lindsay : The Scissors-grinder

Previous 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : The North Star Whispers To The Blacksmith's Son
• Vachel Lindsay : The Mysterious Cat
• Vachel Lindsay : The Mouse That Gnawed The Oak-tree Down
• Vachel Lindsay : The Moon's The North Wind's Cooky
• Vachel Lindsay : The Moon Is A Painter
• Vachel Lindsay : The Merciful Hand
• Vachel Lindsay : The Master Of The Dance
• Vachel Lindsay : The Lion
• Vachel Lindsay : The Leaden-eyed
• Vachel Lindsay : The Knight In Disguise