Caught In A Net

Vachel Lindsay

Upon her breast her hands and hair
 Were tangled all together.
The moon of June forbade me not—
 The golden night time weather
In balmy sighs commanded me
 To kiss them like a feather.

Her looming hair, her burning hands,
 Were tangled black and white.
My face I buried there.  I pray—
 So far from her to-night—
For grace, to dream I kiss her soul
 Amid the black and white.

Next 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : Crickets On A Strike
• Vachel Lindsay : Darling Daughter Of Babylon
• Vachel Lindsay : Drying Their Wings
• Vachel Lindsay : Eden In Winter
• Vachel Lindsay : Edwin Booth
• Vachel Lindsay : Epilogue. Under The Blessing Of Your Psyche Wings
• Vachel Lindsay : Euclid
• Vachel Lindsay : Factory Windows Are Always Broken
• Vachel Lindsay : Foreign Missions In Battle Array
• Vachel Lindsay : Galahad, Knight Who Perished

Previous 10 Poems

• Vachel Lindsay : By The Spring, At Sunset
• Vachel Lindsay : Buddha
• Vachel Lindsay : Blanche Sweet
• Vachel Lindsay : Beyond The Moon
• Vachel Lindsay : At Mass
• Vachel Lindsay : An Indian Summer Day On The Prairie
• Vachel Lindsay : An Explanation Of The Grasshopper
• Vachel Lindsay : An Apology For The Bottle Volcanic
• Vachel Lindsay : An Account Of The Poem Games
• Vachel Lindsay : Alone In The Wind, On The Prairie