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Vachel Lindsay - The Moon is a Painter

He coveted her portrait.
He toiled as she grew gay.
She loved to see him labor
In that devoted way.

And in the end it pleased her,
But bowed him more with care.
Her rose-smile showed so plainly,
Her soul-smile was not there.

That night he groped without a lamp
To find a cloak, a book,
And on the vexing portrait 
By moonrise chanced to look. 

The color-scheme was out of key, 
The maiden rose-smile faint, 
But through the blessed darkness 
She gleamed, his friendly saint. 

The comrade, white, immortal, 
His bride, and more than bride— 
The citizen, the sage of mind, 
For whom he lived and died. 

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Added: Jun 15 2005 | Viewed: 3979 times | Comments and analysis of The Moon is a Painter by Vachel Lindsay Comments (1)

The Moon is a Painter - Comments and Information

Poet: Vachel Lindsay
Poem: The Moon is a Painter
Poem of the Day: Feb 24 2006

Comment 1 of 1, added on March 22nd, 2006 at 9:21 AM.

This is a beautiful poem!
I love the imagery, and the story.

Naomi from United States

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