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Vachel Lindsay - Drying Their Wings
Work rating: Low

What the Carpenter Said


The moon`s a cottage with a door. 
Some folks can see it plain. 
Look, you may catch a glint of light, 
A sparkle through the pane, 
Showing the place is brighter still 
Within, though bright without. 
There, at a cosy open fire 
Strange babes are grouped about. 
The children of the wind and tide— 
The urchins of the sky, 
Drying their wings from storms and things 
So they again can fly.
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