What the Coal-Heaver Said
Comment on What the Coal-Heaver Said and see more Vachel Lindsay poems below.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
The moon's an open furnace door
Where all can see the blast,
We shovel in our blackest griefs,
Upon that grate are cast
Our aching burdens, loves and fears
And underneath them wait
Paper and tar and pitch and pine
Called strife and blood and hate.
Out of it all there comes a flame,
A splendid widening light.
Sorrow is turned to mystery
And Death into delight.
Top Vachel Lindsay Poems