24 quotes
I think that my first poetic impulse is for music; second a definite conception with the ring of the universe; third clearness of exposition.
A Poet in America (1935)
The fact that you can write verse is in itself a certificate that you can write prose.
What It Means to Be a Poet in America (1926)
Booth died blind and still by faith he trod,
Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God.
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems (1913)
A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,
A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl
Make him the quaint great figure that men love,
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black,
Cutting through the forest with a golden track.
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
And who will bring white peace
That he may sleep upon his hill again?
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
Man is a torch, then ashes soon,
May and June, then dead December,
Dead December, then again June.
Who shall end my dream's confusion?
Life is a loom, weaving illusion.
The Chinese Nightingale, and Other Poems (1919)
Booth led boldly with his big bass drum—
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
The Saints smiled gravely and they said:
"He's come."
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems (1913)
The flower-fed buffaloes of the spring
In the days of long ago,
Ranged where the locomotives sing
And the prairie flowers lie low.
Going-to-the-Stars (1926)
Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle.
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
I am still making my living reciting my verses for crowds who refuse to buy my books. I must do this, as all American rhymers must, however sick I may be of the sound of my own voice.
What It Means to Be a Poet in America (1926)
I will not be a slave to my yesterday. I am creator, not a parrot.
They gore no more, they bellow no more,
They trundle around the hills no more:—
With the Blackfeet, lying low,
With the Pawnees, lying low,
Lying low.
Going-to-the-Stars (1926)
Poetry is for the inner ear.
A Poet in America (1935)
They spoke, I think, of perils past.
They spoke, I think, of peace at last.
One thing I remember: Spring came on forever,
Spring came on forever,
Said the Chinese nightingale.
The Chinese Nightingale, and Other Poems (1919)
Except the Christ be born again tonight
In dreams of all men, saints and sons of shame,
The world will never see his kingdom bright.
Stars of all hearts, lead onward thro' the night
Past death-black deserts, doubts without a name,
Past hills of pain and mountains of new sin
To that far sky where mystic births begin,
Where dreaming ears the angel-song shall win.
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems (1913)
Our Christmas shall be rare at dawning there,
And each shall find his brother fair,
Like a little child within:
All hearts of the earth shall find new birth
And wake, no more to sin.
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems (1913)
Be careful what you do,
Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all of the other
Gods of the Congo,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
The Congo, and Other Poems (1914)
Let not our town be large, remembering
That little Athens was the Muses' home,
That Oxford rules the heart of London still,
That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome.
General William Booth Enters into Heaven, and Other Poems (1913)