Drying Their Wings

by Vachel Lindsay


What the Carpenter Said

THE moon's a cottage with a door.
Some folks can see it plain.
Look, you may catch a glint of light,
A sparkle through the pane,
Showing the place is brighter still
Within, though bright without.
There, at a cosy open fire
Strange babes are grouped about.
The children of the wind and tide--
The urchins of the sky,
Drying their wings from storms and things
So they again can fly.
View All poems by Vachel Lindsay


Comment as Guest







Add this widget to your website!


"Top" Lists



"The words you need by the people you admire."

Copyright © 2002-2013 Great Quotes.com


Contact