III

"There was just one sweet potato.
He was golden brown and slim.
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
The lady loved his dancing,
She danced all night with him,
She danced all night with him.
Alas, he wasn't Irish.
So when she flew away,
They threw him in the coal-bin,
And there he is today,
Where they cannot hear his sighs
And his weeping for the lady,
The glorious Irish lady,
The beauteous Irish lady,
Who
Gives
Potatoes
Eyes."

The Booker Washington Trilogy

A Memorial to Booker T. Washington

I. Simon Legree

A Negro Sermon. (To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)

Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
BUT HE WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.

Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.
His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
BUT HE WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.

He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
BUT HE WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.

He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
AND WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.

He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door—
AND WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.

His lamp blew out, but his eyes burned bright.
Simon Legree stepped down all night—
DOWN, DOWN TO THE DEVIL.
Simon Legree he reached the place,
He saw one half of the human race,
He saw the Devil on a wide green throne,
Gnawing the meat from a big ham-bone,
And he said to Mister Devil:

"I see that you have much to eat—
A red ham-bone is surely sweet.
I see that you have lion's feet;
I see your frame is fat and fine,
I see you drink your poison wine—
Blood and burning turpentine."

And the Devil said to Simon Legree:
"I like your style, so wicked and free.
Come sit and share my throne with me,
And let us bark and revel."
And there they sit and gnash their teeth,
And each one wears a hop-vine wreath.
They are matching pennies and shooting craps,
They are playing poker and taking naps.
And old Legree is fat and fine:
He eats the fire, he drinks the wine—
Blood and burning turpentine—
DOWN, DOWN WITH THE DEVIL;
DOWN, DOWN WITH THE DEVIL;
DOWN, DOWN WITH THE DEVIL.

II. John Brown

(To be sung by a leader and chorus, the leader singing the body of the
poem, while the chorus interrupts with the question.)

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
I saw the ark of Noah—
It was made of pitch and pine.
I saw old Father Noah
Asleep beneath his vine.
I saw Shem, Ham and Japhet
Standing in a line.
I saw the tower of Babel
In the gorgeous sunrise shine—
By a weeping willow tree
Beside the Dead Sea.

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
I saw abominations
And Gadarene swine.
I saw the sinful Canaanites
Upon the shewbread dine,
And spoil the temple vessels
And drink the temple wine.
I saw Lot's wife, a pillar of salt
Standing in the brine—
By a weeping willow tree
Beside the Dead Sea.

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
Cedars on Mount Lebanon,
Gold in Ophir's mine,
And a wicked generation
Seeking for a sign
And Baal's howling worshippers
Their god with leaves entwine.
And …
I saw the war-horse ramping
And shake his forelock fine—
By a weeping willow tree
Beside the Dead Sea.

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
Old John Brown.
Old John Brown.
I saw his gracious wife
Dressed in a homespun gown.
I saw his seven sons
Before his feet bow down.
And he marched with his seven sons,
His wagons and goods and guns,
To his campfire by the sea,
By the waves of Galilee.

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
I saw the harp and psalt'ry
Played for Old John Brown.
I heard the ram's horn blow,
Blow for Old John Brown.
I saw the Bulls of Bashan—
They cheered for Old John Brown.
I saw the big Behemoth—
He cheered for Old John Brown.
I saw the big Leviathan—
He cheered for Old John Brown.
I saw the Angel Gabriel
Great power to him assign.
I saw him fight the Canaanites
And set God's Israel free.
I saw him when the war was done
In his rustic chair recline—
By his campfire by the sea,
By the waves of Galilee.

I've been to Palestine.
WHAT DID YOU SEE IN PALESTINE?
Old John Brown.
Old John Brown.
And there he sits
To judge the world.
His hunting-dogs
At his feet are curled.
His eyes half-closed,
But John Brown sees
The ends of the earth,
The Day of Doom.
And his shot-gun lies
Across his knees—
Old John Brown,
Old John Brown.

III. King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba

(A Poem Game.)

"And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, …
she came to prove him with hard questions."

Men's Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
<He bows three times.>
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.

<She bows three times.>
Women's Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.

Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
<They stand together stretching their hands over the land.>
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.

<They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.>
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.

Congregation: We were the oxen.

<Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.>
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
<They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.>
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.

<The men's leader goes forward, the women's leader dances round him.>
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.

<Here he pauses at the footlights.>
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.

<He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.>
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
<The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.>
Wildflowers be found
For ten thousand years,
Wildflowers be found
For ten thousand years.

<He continues to command the congregation, the woman to dance.
He goes forward to the footlights.>
Both Leaders: And every sweetheart had four hundred swans.

Congregation: We were the swans.

<The King walks backward.>
Both Leaders: You shall spread wings again,
You shall spread wings again,
<Here a special dance, by the Queen: swans flying in circles.>
Fly in soft rings again,
Fly in soft rings again,
Swim by cool springs
For ten thousand years,
Swim by cool springs,
For ten thousand years.

Men's Leader: King Solomon,
King Solomon.

Women's Leader: The Queen of Sheba asked him like a lady,
<They bow to each other—then give a pantomime
indicating a great rose garden.>
Bowing most politely:
"What makes the roses bloom
Over the mossy tomb,
Driving away the gloom
Ten thousand years?"

Men's Leader: King Solomon made answer to the lady,
<They bow and confer. The Queen reserved, but taking cognizance.
The King wooing with ornate gestures of respect, and courtly animation.>
Bowing most politely:
"They bloom forever thinking of your beauty,
Your step so queenly and your eyes so lovely.
These keep the roses fair,
Young and without a care,
Making so sweet the air,
Ten thousand years."

<The two, with a manner almost a cake walk, go forward.>
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sons.

<On this line, King and Queen pause before the footlights.>
Congregation: We were the sons.

<Pantomime of crowning the audience.>
Both Leaders: Crowned by the throngs again,
<On this line they walk backward, playing great imaginary harps.>
You shall make songs again,
Singing along
For ten thousand years.

<They go forward in a pony gallop, then stand pawing.>
Both Leaders: He gave each son four hundred prancing ponies.

Congregation: We were the ponies.

<They nod their heads, starting to walk backward.>
Both Leaders: You shall eat hay again,
<A pony dance by both, in circles.>
In forests play again,
Rampage and neigh
For ten thousand years.

Men's Leader: King Solomon he asked the Queen of Sheba,
<They bow to each other, standing so that
each one commands half of the stage.>
Bowing most politely:
"What makes the oak-tree grow
Hardy in sun and snow,
Never by wind brought low
Ten thousand years?"

Women's Leader: The Queen of Sheba answered like a lady,
<They bow to each other, again, with pantomime indicating a forest.>
Bowing most politely:
"It blooms forever thinking of your wisdom,
Your brave heart and the way you rule your kingdom.
These keep the oak secure,
Weaving its leafy lure,
Dreaming by fountains pure
Ten thousand years."

<They go to the footlights with a sailor's lurch and hitch.>
Both Leaders: The Queen of Sheba had four hundred sailors.

<The King and Queen pause.>
Congregation: We were the sailors.

Both Leaders: You shall bring spice and ore
<They walk backward with slow long-armed gestures
indicating the entire horizon line.>
Over the ocean's floor,
Shipmates once more,
For ten thousand years.

Women's Leader: The Queen of Sheba asked him like a lady,
<They bow to each other, the Queen indicating the depths of the sea.>
Bowing most politely:
"Why is the sea so deep,
What secret does it keep
While tides a-roaring leap
Ten thousand years?"

Men's Leader: King Solomon made answer to the lady,
<They bow to each other, then confer; the Queen reserved,
but taking cognizance, the King wooing with ornate gestures
of respect and courtly admiration.>
Bowing most politely:
"My love for you is like the stormy ocean—
Too deep to understand,
Bending to your command,
Bringing your ships to land
Ten thousand years."
King Solomon,
King Solomon.

<They go to the footlights with the greatest possible strut.>
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred chieftains.

Congregation: We were the chieftains.

<The leaders stand with arms proudly folded.>
Both Leaders: You shall be proud again,
<They walk backward haughtily, laughing on the last lines.>
Dazzle the crowd again,
Laughing aloud
For ten thousand years.

<The leaders go forward to the footlights carrying imaginary torches.>
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred shepherds.

<The man and woman pause at the footlights.>
Congregation: We were the shepherds.

<They wander over the stage as though looking for lost lambs,
with torches held high.>
Both Leaders: You shall have torches bright,
Watching the folds by night,
Guarding the lambs aright,
Ten thousand years.

Men's Leader: King Solomon he asked the Queen of Sheba,
<The King kneels, and indicates the entire sky with one long slow
gesture.>
Bowing most politely:
"Why are the stars so high,
There in the velvet sky,
Rolling in rivers by,
Ten thousand years?"

Women's Leader: The Queen of Sheba answered like a lady,
<The Queen kneels opposite the King,
and gives the same gesture as she answers.>
Bowing most politely:
"They're singing of your kingdom to the angels,
They guide your chariot with their lamps and candles,
Therefore they burn so far—
So you can drive your car
Up where the prophets are,
Ten thousand years."

Men's Leader: King Solomon,
King Solomon.

Both Leaders: King Solomon he kept the Sabbath holy.
<The two stand, commanding the audience.>
And spoke with tongues in prophet words so mighty
<The man and woman stamp and whirl with great noise and solemnity.>
We stamped and whirled and wept and shouted:—

Congregation Rises and Joins the Song:
…. "Glory."
We were his people.

<On these two lines, man and woman stamp and whirl again,
gravely, magnificently.>
Both Leaders: You shall be wild and gay,
Green trees shall deck your way,
<On these two lines they kneel, commanding the audience.>
Sunday be every day,
Ten thousand years.

<Now they rise and bow to each other and the audience,
maintaining a certain intention of benediction.>
King Solomon,
King Solomon.

How Samson Bore Away the Gates of Gaza

(A Negro Sermon.)

Once, in a night as black as ink,
She drove him out when he would not drink.
Round the house there were men in wait
Asleep in rows by the Gaza gate.
But the Holy Spirit was in this man.
Like a gentle wind he crept and ran.
("It is midnight," said the big town clock.)

He lifted the gates up, post and lock.
The hole in the wall was high and wide
When he bore away old Gaza's pride
Into the deep of the night:—
The bold Jack Johnson Israelite,—
Samson—
The Judge,
The Nazarite.

The air was black, like the smoke of a dragon.
Samson's heart was as big as a wagon.
He sang like a shining golden fountain.
He sweated up to the top of the mountain.
He threw down the gates with a noise like judgment.
And the quails all ran with the big arousement.

But he wept—"I must not love tough queens,
And spend on them my hard earned means.
I told that girl I would drink no more.
Therefore she drove me from her door.
Oh sorrow!
Sorrow!
I cannot hide.
Oh Lord look down from your chariot side.
You made me Judge, and I am not wise.
I am weak as a sheep for all my size."

Let Samson
Be coming
Into your mind.

The moon shone out, the stars were gay.
He saw the foxes run and play.
He rent his garments, he rolled around
In deep repentance on the ground.

Then he felt a honey in his soul.
Grace abounding made him whole.
Then he saw the Lord in a chariot blue.
The gorgeous stallions whinnied and flew.
The iron wheels hummed an old hymn-tune
And crunched in thunder over the moon.
And Samson shouted to the sky:
"My Lord, my Lord is riding high."

Like a steed, he pawed the gates with his hoof.
He rattled the gates like rocks on the roof,
And danced in the night
On the mountain-top,
Danced in the deep of the night:
The Judge, the holy Nazarite,
Whom ropes and chains could never bind.

Let Samson
Be coming
Into your mind.

Whirling his arms, like a top he sped.
His long black hair flew round his head
Like an outstretched net of silky cord,
Like a wheel of the chariot of the Lord.

Let Samson
Be coming
Into your mind.

Samson saw the sun anew.
He left the gates in the grass and dew.
He went to a county-seat a-nigh.
Found a harlot proud and high:
Philistine that no man could tame—
Delilah was her lady-name.
Oh sorrow,
Sorrow,
She was too wise.
She cut off his hair,
She put out his eyes.

Let Samson
Be coming
Into your mind.

By the Same Author

A Handy Guide for Beggars
New Edition. Cloth, 12mo, $1.25

"The Handy Guide for Beggars" is an introduction to all Vachel Lindsay's work. It gives his first adventures afoot. He walked through Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Kentucky, in the spring of 1906. He walked through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and on to Hiram, Ohio, in the spring of 1908. He carried on these trips his poems: "The Tree of Laughing Bells", "The Heroes of Time", etc. He recited them in exchange for food and lodging. He left copies for those who appeared interested. The book is a record of these journeys, and of many pleasing discoveries about American Democracy.

This book serves to introduce the next, "Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty". In the spring and summer of 1912, Mr. Lindsay walked from Springfield, Illinois, west to Colorado, and into New Mexico. He was much more experienced in the road. He carried "Rhymes to Be Traded for Bread", "The Village Improvement Parade", etc. As is indicated in the title, he wrestled with a theory of American aesthetics. "Christmas, 1915", the third book in the series, appeared, applying the "Gospel of Beauty to the Photoplay". The ideas of Art and Democracy that develop in the first two books are used as the basic principles in "The Art of the Moving Picture". Those who desire a close view of the Lindsay idea will do well to read the three works in the order named. Further particulars in the pages following.

The Congo and Other Poems
With a preface by Harriet Monroe, Editor of the 'Poetry Magazine'.
Cloth, 12mo, $1.25; leather, $1.60

In the readings which Vachel Lindsay has given for colleges, universities, etc., throughout the country, he has won the approbation of the critics and of his audiences in general for the new verse-form which he is employing, as well as the manner of his chanting and singing, which is peculiarly his own. He carries in memory all the poems in his books, and recites the program made out for him; the wonderful effect of sound produced by his lines, their relation to the idea which the author seeks to convey, and their marvelous lyrical quality are quite beyond the ordinary, and suggest new possibilities and new meanings in poetry. It is his main object to give his already established friends a deeper sense of the musical intention of his pieces.

The book contains the much discussed "War Poem", "Abraham Lincoln Walks
at Midnight"; it contains among its familiar pieces: "The Santa Fe
Trail", "The Firemen's Ball", "The Dirge for a Righteous Kitten",
"The Griffin's Egg", "The Spice Tree", "Blanche Sweet", "Mary Pickford",
"The Soul of the City", etc.

Mr. Lindsay received the Levinson Prize for the best poem contributed to 'Poetry', a magazine of verse, (Chicago) for 1915.

"We do not know a young man of any more promise than Mr. Vachel Lindsay for the task which he seems to have set himself."—'The Dial'.

General William Booth Enters Into Heaven and Other Poems
Price, $1.25; leather, $1.60

This book contains among other verses: "On Reading Omar Khayyam
during an Anti-Saloon Campaign in Illinois"; "The Wizard Wind";
"The Eagle Forgotten", a Memorial to John P. Altgeld;
"The Knight in Disguise", a Memorial to O. Henry; "The Rose and the
Lotus"; "Michaelangelo"; "Titian"; "What the Hyena Said"; "What Grandpa
Mouse Said"; "A Net to Snare the Moonlight"; "Springfield Magical";
"The Proud Farmer"; "The Illinois Village"; "The Building of
Springfield".

————

Comments on the Title Poem:

"This poem, at once so glorious, so touching and poignant in its conception and expression … is perhaps the most remarkable poem of a decade—one that defies imitation."—'Review of Reviews'.

"A sweeping and penetrating vision that works with a naive charm….
No American poet of to-day is more a people's poet."—'Boston
Transcript'.

"One could hardly overpraise 'General Booth'."—'New York Times'.

"Something new in verse, spontaneous, passionate, unmindful of conventions in form and theme."—'The Living Age'.

Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty
Price, $1.00

This is a series of happening afoot while reciting at back-doors in the west, and includes some experiences while harvesting in Kansas. It includes several proclamations which apply the Gospel of Beauty to agricultural conditions. There are, among other rhymed interludes: "The Shield of Faith", "The Flute of the Lonely", "The Rose of Midnight", "Kansas", "The Kallyope Yell".

Something to Read

Vachel Lindsay took a walk from his home in Springfield, Ill., over the prairies to New Mexico. He was in Kansas in wheat-harvest time and he worked as a farmhand, and he tells all about that. He tells about his walks and the people he met in a little book, "Adventures While Preaching the Gospel of Beauty".

For the conditions of his tramps were that he should keep away from cities, money, baggage, and pay his way by reciting his own poems. And he did it. People liked his pieces, and tramp farmhands with rough necks and rougher hands left off singing smutty limericks and took to "Atalanta in Calydon" apparently because they preferred it. Of motor cars, which gave him a lift, he says: "I still maintain that the auto is a carnal institution, to be shunned by the truly spiritual, but there are times when I, for one, get tired of being spiritual." His story of the "Five Little Children Eating Mush" (that was one night in Colorado, and he recited to them while they ate supper) has more beauty and tenderness and jolly tears than all the expensive sob stuff theatrical managers ever dreamed of. Mr. Lindsay doesn't need to write verse to be a poet. His prose is poetry—poetry straight from the soil, of America that is, and of a nobler America that is to be. You cannot afford—both for your entertainment and for the REAL IDEA that this young man has (of which we have said nothing)—to miss this book.—Editorial from 'Collier's Weekly'.

The Art of the Moving Picture
Price, $1.25

An effort to apply the Gospel of Beauty to a new art.

The first section has an outline which is proposed as a basis for photoplay criticism in America; chapters on: "The Photoplay of Action", "The Intimate Photoplay", "The Picture of Fairy Splendor", "The Picture of Crowd Splendor", "The Picture of Patriotic Splendor", "The Picture of Religious Splendor", "Sculpture in Motion", "Painting in Motion", "Furniture", "Trappings and Inventions in Motion", "Architecture in Motion", "Thirty Differences between the Photoplays and the Stage", "Hieroglyphics". The second section is avowedly more discursive, being more personal speculations and afterthoughts, not brought forward so dogmatically; chapters on: "The Orchestra Conversation and the Censorship", "The Substitute for the Saloon", "California and America", "Progress and Endowment", "Architects as Crusaders", "On Coming Forth by Day", "The Prophet Wizard", "The Acceptable Year of the Lord".

For Late Reviews of Mr. Lindsay and his contemporaries read:

'The New Republic': Articles by Randolph S. Bourne, December 5, 1914, on the "Adventures While Preaching"; and Francis Hackett, December 25, 1915, on "The Art of the Moving Picture".

'The Dial': Unsigned article by Lucien Carey, October 16, 1914, on "The Congo", etc.

'The Yale Review': Article by H. M. Luquiens, July, 1916, on "The Art of the Moving Picture".

General Articles on the Poetry Situation

'The Century Magazine': "America's Golden Age in Poetry", March, 1916.

'Harper's Monthly Magazine': "The Easy Chair", William Dean Howells,
September, 1915.

'The Craftsman': "Has America a National Poetry?" Amy Lowell, July, 1916.

[End of original text.]

Biographical Note:

Nicholas Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931):
(Vachel is pronounced Vay-chul, that is, it rhymes with 'Rachel').

"The Eagle that is Forgotten" and "The Congo" are two of his best-known poems, and appear in his first two volumes of verse, "General William Booth Enters into Heaven" (1913) and "The Congo" (1914).

As a sidenote, he became close friends with the poet Sara Teasdale and his third volume of verse, "The Chinese Nightingale" (1917), is dedicated to her. In turn, she wrote a memorial verse for him after he committed suicide in 1931.

——

From an anthology of verse by Jessie B. Rittenhouse (1913, 1917):

"Lindsay, Vachel. Born November 10, 1879. Educated at Hiram College, Ohio. He took up the study of art and studied at the Art Institute, Chicago, 1900-03 and at the New York School of Art, 1904-05. For a time after his technical study, he lectured upon art in its practical relation to the community, and returning to his home in Springfield, Illinois, issued what one might term his manifesto in the shape of "The Village Magazine", divided about equally between prose articles, pertaining to beautifying his native city, and poems, illustrated by his own drawings. Soon after this, Mr. Lindsay, taking as scrip for the journey, "Rhymes to be Traded for Bread", made a pilgrimage on foot through several Western States going as far afield as New Mexico. The story of this journey is given in his volume, "Adventures while Preaching the Gospel of Beauty". Mr. Lindsay first attracted attention in poetry by "General William Booth Enters into Heaven", a poem which became the title of his first volume, in 1913. His second volume was "The Congo", published in 1914. He is attempting to restore to poetry its early appeal as a spoken art, and his later work differs greatly from the selections contained in this anthology."