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Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
77
Our borrowed sorrow;
We will have no thirst for yesterday,
No thought for to-morrow."
The Journey Starts Swiftly
A thousand times ten thousand times
More swift than the sun's swift light
Were the Morning Wings in their flight
On— On —
West of the Universe,
Thro' the West
To Chaos-night.
He Nears the God
How the red bells rang
As I neared the Chaos-shore!
As I flew across to the end of the West
The young bells rang and rang
Above the Chaos roar,
And the wings of the Morning
Beat in tune
And bore me like a bird along—
And the nearing star turned to a moon—
Gray moon, with a brow of red—
Gray moon with a golden song.
