General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other PoemsLindsay, Vachel
General
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems
Lindsay, Vachel
American poetry; Booth, William, 1829-1912; Didactic poetry; Fantasy poetry; Pastoral poetry
We had done naught of service
To win our Maker's praise.
Yet Sweetheart Winter came to us
To gild our waning days.
Down Jacob's winding ladder
She came from Sunshine Town,
Bearing the sparkling mornings
And clouds of silver-brown;
Bearing the seeds of Springtime.
Upon her snowy seas
Bearing the fairy star-flowers
For baby Christmas trees.
The Sorceress!
I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
Hidden anywhere?"
"Look into your heart," she said,
"Aladdin's lamp is there."
She took my heart with glowing hands.
It burned to dust and air
And smoke and rolling thistledown
Blowing everywhere.
"Follow the thistledown," she said,
"Till doomsday, if you dare,
Over the hills and far away.
Aladdin's lamp is there."
Caught in a Net
Upon her breast her hands and hair
Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not--
The golden night time weather
In balmy sighs commanded me
To kiss them like a feather.
Her looming hair, her burning hands,
Were tangled black and white.
My face I buried there. I pray--
So far from her to-night--
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul
Amid the black and white.
Eden in Winter
[Supposed to be chanted to some rude instrument at a modern fireplace]
Chant we the story now
Tho' in a house we sleep;
Tho' by a hearth of coals
Vigil to-night we keep.
Chant we the story now,
Of the vague love we knew
When I from out the sea
Rose to the feet of you.
Bird from the cliffs you came,
Flew thro' the snow to me,
Facing the icy blast
There by the icy sea.
How did I reach your feet?
Why should I--at the end
Hold out half-frozen hands
Dumbly to you my friend?
Ne'er had I woman seen,
Ne'er had I seen a flame.
There you piled fagots on,
Heat rose--the blast to tame.
There by the cave-door dark,
Comforting me you cried--
Wailed o'er my wounded knee,
Wept for my rock-torn side.
Up from the South I trailed--
Left regions fierce and fair!
Left all the jungle-trees,
Left the red tiger's lair.
Dream led, I scarce knew why,
Into your North I trod--
Ne'er had I known the snow,
Or the frost-blasted sod.
O how the flakes came down!
O how the fire burned high!
Strange thing to see he was,
Thro' his dry twigs would fly,
Creep there awhile and sleep--
Then wake and bark for fight--
Biting if I too near
Came to his eye so bright.
Then with a will you fed
Wood to his hungry tongue.
Then he did leap and sing--
Dancing the clouds among,
Turning the night to noon,
Stinging my eyes with light,
Making the snow retreat,
Making the cave-house bright.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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