The Poetry Corner

What the Coal-heaver Said

By Vachel Lindsay

(Moon Poems for the Children/Fairy-tales for the Children) The moon's an open furnace door Where all can see the blast, We shovel in our blackest griefs, Upon that grate are cast Our aching burdens, loves and fears And underneath them wait Paper and tar and pitch and pine Called strife and blood and hate. Out of it all there comes a flame, A splendid widening light. Sorrow is turned to mystery And Death into delight.