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.

Added: Feb 1 2004 | Viewed: 5743 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Vachel Lindsay (Vachel Lindsay Art)
Poem: Drying Their Wings
Poem of the Day: Apr 9 2005
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