Vachel Lindsay Quotes

They gore no more, they bellow no more, They trundle around the hills no more:— With the Blackfeet, lying low, With the Pawnees, lying low, Lying low.

The flower-fed buffalos of the spring In the days of long ago, Ranged where the locomotives sing And the prairie flowers lie low.

And who will bring white peace That he may sleep upon his hill again?

It is portentous, and a thing of state That here at midnight, in our little town A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, Near the old courthouse pacing up and down.

Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, Cutting through the forest with a golden track.

Booth died blind and still by faith he trod, Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God.