By Vachel Lindsay
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all,
That which is gendered in the wilderness
From lonely prairies and God’s tenderness.
Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream,
Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream,
Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave,
Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire—
Fire that freed the slave.
Source: General William Booth Enters into Heaven and Other Poems (1913)
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More By This Poet
The Traveller-Heart
I would be one with the dark, dark earth:—
Follow the plough with a yokel tread.
I would be part of the Indian corn,
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I would be one with the lavish earth,
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It is portentous, and a thing of state
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He lingers where his children...
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You remember the mermaid makes a deal,
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Pull up from the root, steep
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Sprinkle them on your tongue.
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i love you to the moon &
not back, let’s not come back, let’s go by the speed of
queer zest & stay up
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as...
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Some women make a pilgrimage to visit it
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