The Project Gutenberg eBook of Going-to-the-Sun This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Going-to-the-Sun Author: Vachel Lindsay Release date: October 26, 2020 [eBook #63554] Language: English Credits: Produced by Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOING-TO-THE-SUN *** Produced by Tim Lindell, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) [Illustration] GOING-TO-THE-SUN GOING-TO-THE-SUN BY VACHEL LINDSAY AUTHOR OF “GENERAL WILLIAM BOOTH ENTERS HEAVEN,” “THE CONGO,” ETC. [Illustration: colophon] D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK :: LONDON :: MCMXXIII [Illustration] COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA [Illustration] CONTENTS PREFACE 1 WE START FOR THE WATERFALLS 8 GOING-TO-THE-SUN 10 THE MYSTIC ROOSTER OF THE MONTANA SUNRISE 12 THE BIRD CALLED “CURIOSITY” 14 THE THISTLE VINE 16 AND THEY LAUGHED 18 THE FAIRY CIRCUS 20 THE BATTLE-AX OF THE SUN 22 THE CHRISTMAS TREES 24 THE PHEASANT SPEAKS OF HIS BIRTHDAYS 26 THE MYSTIC UNICORN OF THE MOUNTAIN SUNSET 30 JOHNNY APPLESEED STILL FURTHER WEST 34 THE APPLE-BARREL OF JOHNNY APPLESEED 38 THE COMET OF GOING-TO-THE-SUN 40 THE BOAT WITH THE KITE STRING AND THE CELESTIAL EYES 42 “SO MUCH THE WORSE FOR BOSTON” 50 THE ROCKETS THAT REACHED SATURN 72 MEDITATION 74 THE TRAVELER 76 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 78 SOME BALLOONS GROW ON TREES 80 BABYLON’S GARDENS ARE BURNING 84 IN THE BEAUTY PARLORS 86 A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN 88 OLD JUDGE HOOT OWL 90 PEARLS 92 THE LAND HORSE AND THE SEA HORSE 94 CONCERNING THE MOUSE WITH TWO TAILS 98 WORDS ABOUT AN ANCIENT QUEEN 100 [Illustration] [Illustration] ILLUSTRATIONS Elements of Good Tea 1 We Start for the Waterfalls 9 Going-To-The-Sun 11 The Mystic Rooster of the Montana Sunrise 13 The Bird Called “Curiosity” 15 The Thistle Vine 17 And They Laughed (Poppies) 19 The Fairy Circus 21 The Battle-Ax of the Sun 23 The Christmas Trees 25 The Pheasant Speaks of His Birthdays 27 The Mystic Unicorn of the Montana Sunset 31 Johnny Appleseed Still Further West 35 And Fairies Came from Them 37 The Apple-Barrel of Johnny Appleseed 39 The Comet of Going-To-The-Sun 41 The Boat with the Kite String and the Celestial Eyes 43 The Big-Eared Rat of Boston 51 The Boston Mouse 53 The Tower-of-Babel Cactus 55 A Back-Bay Whale 59 The Bat 65 Rockets on the Way to Saturn 71 Rockets in Saturn 73 Meditation 75 The Moon is a Devil-Jester 77 Elizabeth Barrett Browning 79 Some Balloons Grow on Trees 81 Babylon’s Gardens are Burning 85 The Ape Rode the Jumbo 87 A Political Campaign 89 Old Judge Hoot Owl 91 Pearls 93 The Land Horse 95 The Sea Horse 97 Concerning the Mouse with Two Tails 99 Words about an Ancient Queen 101 [Illustration] [Illustration] GOING-TO-THE-SUN [Illustration] THE ELEMENTS OF GOOD TEA This book is a sequel and a reply to a book by Stephen Graham, explorer-poet, and Vernon Hill, artist. I had a splendid six weeks tramping with my lifetime friend, Stephen Graham, in the Rockies. We climbed northwest through Glacier Park, Montana, across the Canadian line into Alberta, Canada. There it is in two sentences. It would take more than the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ to tell on how many points I differ from Stephen, and on how many points I agree with him. I had not the least idea that so much Lindsay was going into Graham’s fireside notes--while I was asleep at noon, often recovering in an hour from ten hours of restless, sleepless freezing by night. I do not hold myself liable in court for any opinions of mine then recorded by Graham. My daytime strength was not all given to thought, however, but often to trying to keep Graham in sight when he was a quarter of a mile ahead of me climbing mountains absolutely perpendicular. As I remember our first fireside discussions, they were as to whether there was actually such a person as Patrick Henry. Graham had an idea he was a perverse invention of my own fancy. But he looked him up afterwards and found there was such a man. As I remember our conversations after that provocation, I kept trying to deliver to him from memory Bryce’s _American Commonwealth_, unabridged, two volumes, one thousand pages each. I remember those volumes well. I read every page in lonely country hotels and on slow local trains while a Sunday field-worker for the Anti-Saloon League. And now invisible leaves of Bryce often made the chief ingredient of our tea. So I have indicated in the design. I did not tell Graham I was quoting the great ambassador, and so many unsupported, heavy and formidable statements he quite properly hesitated to write out, without further confirmation, though he drank them down quite cheerfully. In the great blank spaces in Graham’s narrative where he skips really splendid scenery, I was quoting Bryce--not always singing hymns! The most authentic part of my book, the part Mr. Vernon Hill has left out, is that the mountains were as steep as I have drawn them. His mountains, otherwise quite correct, are not sufficiently perpendicular. Vernon Hill, of course, was not physically with us on the expedition. He was in London, drawing beautiful and famous Arcadian Calendars. When later he came to illustrate Graham’s book in London, with Graham bending over him, no one mentioned the fact that the mountains were all like church steeples. Graham had not noticed it, and it did not occur to Vernon Hill by wireless. Otherwise Vernon Hill was in excellent communication with us, and every picture in Graham’s book expresses exactly what Graham was talking to me about to make me forget the tumbles and the briers, and to drown out the Bryce. After I had hunted for years and years to find an explorer-poet who would take a long walk with me, and had scared every one off by the elaborateness of the proposal, the first troubadour that took me up on it almost broke my neck. It was a grand and awful time. The sensible reviews of Graham’s book have been by Walter Prichard Eaton. He does not discuss Graham’s opinions or mine. But he is very plain about the fact that we almost slid into eternity. He has tried those mountains himself, and he knows. He should write several more reviews. Stephen Graham is a lifetime friend, and I have assembled these drawings as a sign thereof. But because I have been studying Hieroglyphics in the Metropolitan Museum all this summer, and because United States Hieroglyphics of my own invention are haunting me day and night, this book is drawn, and not written. I serve notice on the critics--the verses are most incidental, merely to explain the pictures. And so, directly considered, it is much more a reply to Vernon Hill, the artist, than to Stephen. The artist of the Arcadian Calendar discerned rightly. Graham and I were in Arcady, even if it was a bit rough. Going-To-The-Sun Mountain is the very jewel of the mountains of Glacier Park. All the tourists love it, and they are right. Its name fits it. Going-To-The-Sun Mountain is our American Fujiyama, as all testify who have seen it. Obviously, an ingredient of good tea is talk on Egyptian Hieroglyphics. I had an invisible copy of an Egyptian Grammar with me and I put a leaf from it into every pot of tea. Graham did not take to the taste of it as much as he did to the pages of Bryce, but he was nobly patient, as one may say, with Egypt. The Hieroglyphics in this work are based on two more British-Egyptian grammars he sent me after he reached London. Still, they may be described as United States Hieroglyphics, and almost any Egyptologist will be willing to describe them that way, having about as much to do with Egypt as Egyptian cigarettes. The Egyptians were, briefly, a nation of Vernon Hills, who drew their “Arcadian Calendar” for four thousand years in red and black ink, or cut it in granite. _I keep thinking about them!_ A free translation of the hieroglyphic inscription at the bottom of the first picture following is: +-----------------------------------------------+ | _The beating heart of the waterfall of the | | double truth, as it appears to a scribe, | | a servant of Thoth--Thoth, who is god of | | picture-writing, photoplays and hieroglyphics,| | and an intense admirer of waterfalls._ | +-----------------------------------------------+ With this start, the reader can go straight through the book without a mistake. Now, a last word as to the seal, _The Elements of Good Tea_. On the southern side of the Canadian-United States boundary, just as we reached it, our coffee gave out. Most symbolical happening! There in the deep woods, as we passed to the northern side, Graham said with a sigh of insatiable anticipation: “Now we will have some tea.” We had had tea all along, alternated with coffee. But now Stephen, on his own heath, was emphatic about it. So he made tea, a whole potful, with a kick like a battering ram, and I drank my half. Certainly the most worth-while thing in Stephen’s book, and mine, is a matter known to all men long before the books were written. That is, that a Britisher and a United Stateser can cross the Canadian-American line together and discover that it is hardly there; can discover that an international boundary can be genuine and eternal and yet friendly. If there is one thing on which Stephen and I will agree till the Judgment Day, it is that all the boundaries in the world should be as open, and as happy, as the Canadian-United States line. To many diplomats such a boundary is incredible, and yet it exists, one of the longest in the world. VACHEL LINDSAY WE START WEST FOR THE WATERFALLS Tricking us, making our hearts their prey, The dreams of the dreams, with books of the dreams, Haunt the homes of the town this day; The visions of rivers, with rhymes of the waterfalls, Haunt the yards of the town this day; The fairies of the fairies, with the flowers of the fairies, Haunt the factories of the town this day; And we throw them kisses, and they fly away. Tricking us, making our hearts their prey, The angels of the angels, with the flags of the angels, Haunt the clouds above the town this day, And we throw them kisses and they fly away. And they call us west to the glacial mountains, To the mines that are books, to the natural fountains. [Illustration] GOING-TO-THE-SUN The mountain peak called “Going-To-The-Sun,” In Glacier Park, Is the most gorgeous one, And when the sun comes down to it, it glows With emerald and rose. [Illustration] THE MYSTIC ROOSTER OF THE MONTANA SUNRISE On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I saw the rooster that no storm can tame, The center of the sun was but his eye, His comb was but the sun rays and the flame. There in the Glacier Park, above white glaciers, There, above Montana and the west, He crowed and called his boast around the world, Emotion shook his red embroidered vest. There is humor in the very biggest rooster, But even more magnificence than fun. I laugh because he acted like a rooster, I am solemn, for he was the biggest one. I like a rooster or a turkey gobbler, I like their forthright impudence at times. They are neither larks, nor trilling nightingales, And yet they always sing in splendid rhymes. When I heard the vast bird of the sunrise crying, The world held not one inch of silly prose. Any rooster is a flowerlike fowl, And this one was a crimson Yankee rose. [Illustration] THE BIRD CALLED “CURIOSITY” Round the mountain peak called “Going-To-The-Sun,” In Glacier Park, a steep and soaring one, Circled a curious bird with pointed nose Who led us on to every cave, and rose And swept through every cloud, then brought us berries, And all the acid gifts the mountain carries, And let us guess which ones were good to eat. And even when we slept his sharp wings beat The weary fire, or shook the tree-top cones, Or rattled dead twigs like a fairy’s bones. The vulgar bird, “Curiosity”! When we Were tired, and lean, and shaking at the knee, We put this bird in harness. He was strong As any ostrich, pulled our packs along, Helped us up over the next annoying wall, And dragged us to the chalet, and the tourists’ resting hall. And when once more we were young, well-fed men, He beat the door to call us forth again. [Illustration] THE THISTLEVINE The Thistlevine saw the butterflies Disappear through the morning skies. [Illustration] AND THEY LAUGHED By the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” A dizzy mountain, where paths twist round and round And nothing in sober order can be found-- I asked the poppies: “What fairies do you see?” And they shook their long stems, and they laughed at me. [Illustration: AND THEY LAUGHED VACHEL LINDSAY 1922] [Illustration] THE FAIRY CIRCUS A fairy ran a circus With a pigeon puffed and proud, A humble bullfrog And a rather solid cloud. She wore her underwear, The rest wore what they had, The frog wore a blue coat Just like his dad. The pigeon wore his feathers And spread himself--O My! The cloud wore sunshine He gathered in the sky. [Illustration] THE BATTLE-AX OF THE SUN On the mountain peak I reached the drift And I took it for a Christmas gift, And I made ten soldiers out of snow. But the battle-ax of my fairy foe Cut to the ground my men of snow. And who was he, my fairy foe, Who brought my snowy army low? The mountain sun was my fairy foe. [Illustration: THE BATTLE-AX OF THE SUN] [Illustration] THE CHRISTMAS TREES On the high slope of Going-To-The-Sun Is a stormy Christmas, all year round, And snow-filled Christmas trees abound. [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY, 1922] [Illustration] THE PHEASANT SPEAKS OF HIS BIRTHDAYS Up the good slope of Going-To-The-Sun, I saw the Pheasant-Of-The-Sunrise fly. Jewels in his feathers, mixed with dew. Dew and jewels made his jeweled eye. He paused to make a sonnet, which he sang, Though nowhere else are pheasants sonneteers. He emphasized with swooping and with skipping, With winkings and intoxicated leers. And how the bushes twinkled as he caroled: “Each morning is another birthday, friend. And I have lived so many happy birthdays! There are gifts with all the suns that here ascend! Each bush, you see, has an unextinguished candle And angel-food, and icing, and candy flowers, And this long vine that climbs from earth to heaven Gives me thoughts, and most erratic powers. I eat its scarlet berries and its frosting. If I choose, it is my present every day. Then I can fly straight up to heaven’s doorstep Following the green line all the way. [Illustration] “And then I tumble like a limber leaf To my nest here, and another year is done Or another thousand years, what does it matter On the mountain peak called ‘Going-To-The-Sun’?” THE MYSTIC UNICORN OF THE MONTANA SUNSET On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I saw the Unicorn-No-Storm-Can-Tame. The center of the sun was but his eye, His mane was but the sun rays and the flame. There in that Glacier Park, above green pastures, There above Stephen’s camp fire in the rocks, He foamed and pawed and whinnied round the world, His feathered sides and plumes and bristling locks Seemed but the banners of a great announcement That unicorns were spry as heretofore, That not a camp fire of the world was dead, That dragons lived in them, and thousands more Camp-born, were clawing at the clouds of Asia, Were rising with to-morrow’s dawn for men, Camp-fire dragons, with the ancient unicorn Bringing the Rosicrucian days again. Any unicorn can drive away Any thoughts the grown-up race has spoiled. When I heard the Unicorn-of-Sunset ramping New fancies in my veins bubbled and boiled. [Illustration] Any unicorn is worth his oats, And so we fed him bacon, and we made An extra cup of tea, which he drank. Then he curled up coltwise, and in slumber sank. Dragons sprang up, next day, where he had stayed. They were in Fujiyama silks arrayed, Or spoke of Everest to Stephen. Then began Discussing the strange peak in Darien That poets climb to see the Pacific well. How Stephen climbed it later, I will let him tell. Following the Unicorn-No-Storm-Can-Tame Alone, in tropic woods, is a great game. JOHNNY APPLESEED STILL FURTHER WEST On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I saw old Johnny Appleseed once more. He ate an apple, threw away the core. Then turned and smiled and slackly watched it fall Into a crevice of the mountain wall. In an instant there was an apple tree, The roots split up the rocks beneath our feet, And apples rolled down the green mountainside And fairies popped from them, flying and free! [Illustration] And Fairies Came from them. [Illustration] THE APPLE-BARREL OF JOHNNY APPLESEED On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I saw gray Johnny Appleseed at prayer Just as the sunset made the old earth fair. Then darkness came; in an instant, like great smoke, The sun fell down as though its great hoops broke And dark rich apples, poured from the dim flame Where the sun set, came rolling toward the peak, A storm of fruit, a mighty cider-reek, The perfume of the orchards of the world, From apple-shadows: red and russet domes That turned to clouds of glory and strange homes Above the mountain tops for cloud-born souls:-- Reproofs for men who build the world like moles, Models for men, if they would build the world As Johnny Appleseed would have it done-- Praying, and reading the books of Swedenborg On the mountain top called “Going-To-The-Sun.” [Illustration] THE COMET OF GOING-TO-THE-SUN On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” A comet stopped to drink from a cool spring And like a spirit-harp began to sing To us, then hurried on to reach the sun. We called him “Homer’s soul,” and “Milton’s wing.” The harp-sound stayed, though he went up and on. It turned to thunder, when he had quite gone-- And yet was like a soft voice of the sea, And every whispering root and every blade of grass And every tree In the whole world, and brought thoughts of old songs That blind men sang ten thousand years ago, And all the springtime hearts of every nation know. [Illustration] THE BOAT WITH THE KITE STRING AND THE CELESTIAL EYES On the mountain peak, called “Going-To-The-Sun,” I sat alone; while Stephen explored higher, I dragged in sticks and logs and kept our fire. On soft-winged sails of meditation My boat of spiral shells and flowers, And fluffy clouds and twinkling hours, My thought-boat went with the sun all day Over the glaciers, far away. I sat alone, but the chipmunks knew My boat was high, and plain to view. I flew my ship like a kite. The thread Was a cobweb silk, fine and thin, That came from out the palm of my hand. There I saw the ship begin. From the gypsy’s life line thence it came A feather of mist that flew to the dawn, And I felt the spool in my wrist unwind, And I saw the feather on heaven’s lawn, Now a glimmering ship like a lark awake. And the kite string sang, but did not break. [Illustration] It stretched like the string of a violin Played by invisible tides and waves. It sang of Springfield yet to be. It sang of the dead hours in their graves. And of the United States to be, And of all the map stretched out below. And my kite had pansy eyes in its wings, And I saw the states in their bloom and glow Yet a child’s block-map, and nothing more, Flat patterns on a playroom floor. Texas the fort, by the river to the south, Michigan a pheasant with a leaf in its mouth, Illinois an ear of corn, in the shock, Maine a moose-horn, gray as a rock. California a whale, in gilded mail, Montana, a ranch of alfalfa and clover, Montana with its mountain called “Going-To-The-Sun,” An outdoor temple for the singer and the rover, Wyoming a range for a summer lark, With sparkling trails, and its Yellowstone Park, Colorado an Indian tent for the world, Where the smokes of care-free camps are curled, Arizona a mission in the desert for all time, Where the nerves find peace, and thoughts find rhyme, New Mexico a clay pueblo full of dreams, Eldorado in its valleys, ghosts by its streams. Utah a throne for a grandeur unknown, For haughty hearts, with ways of their own. Nevada the cabin of Mark Twain in his youth, Where he mined in the cañons, where he dug for the truth. Washington a western soldier’s tent, Idaho a chair for a president, North and South Dakota, one buffalo hide, Oregon a lumber mill on a mountain side, Nebraska, Oklahoma, cowboy pistols pointing west Kansas a wheat field where I, once, was a guest, Iowa a corn pone sizzling hot, Minnesota a farmer’s coffee-pot. Arkansas a steamboat at Mark Twain’s door, Missouri Mark Twain’s raft on the shore. Louisiana a cavalier’s boot, just the thing When we wade toward the mouth of the delta in the spring. Mississippi a cotton scales, Alabama many cotton bales, Georgia a peach-basket red, Florida a wild turkey’s head, North Carolina a crane, flying through a cloud, South Carolina a soldier, with head unbowed, West Virginia, the raccoon, shrewd and slow, Tennessee Bob Taylor’s fiddle and bow, Virginia Thomas Jefferson’s mountain and shroud, Kentucky the log cradle of the proud. Maryland a plow, Delaware a pruning hook, Indiana Riley’s Hoosier book, Wisconsin a caldron, cool it who can, Ohio Johnny Appleseed’s park for man. Vermont a poet’s house, with waterfall and fern, Where Frost writes songs that the world will learn. New Jersey the doorstep of the nation, Pennsylvania the front room of the nation, Where once Penn welcomed all creation And let them sleep on the grassy floor And let them eat the wild berries and explore. Rhode Island, Roger Williams’ holy place, Connecticut, an arbor of innocence and grace Filled with flowers, and souls like lace, Especially one little girl six years young Who tells me stories in the fairy tongue. New Hampshire the mast of the Mayflower, Massachusetts the prow of the Mayflower, Most famous ark forevermore. The whole map a temple, if we patiently read, With the statue of Liberty in majesty to plead For Arcady to come once more, And with New York on guard, New York a sentinel, New York a lion by the door. By my camp fire I grew older, There were chipmunks on my shoulder, While I saw the world, With the eyes of my boat, As one land, With Asia and Alaska by the ice bound as one, The Aurora Borealis was a cross bright as the sun. I seemed to live through myriad days. My eyes looked down like searching rays. I took my flight over many races, I saw, in my thought, all human faces. And my spirit had its fill. And the thread in my wrist wound in again The cobweb shortened, strand on strand, And my little ship came back to land And was only a feather in my hand. SO MUCH THE WORSE FOR BOSTON [Sidenote: _Some words about singing this song, Are written this border along._] I read the aspens like a book, and every leaf was signed, And I climbed above the aspen-grove to read what I could find On Mount Clinton, Colorado, I met a mountain-cat. I will call him “Andrew Jackson,” and I mean no harm by that. He was growling, and devouring a terrific mountain-rat. But when the feast was ended, the mountain-cat was kind, And showed a pretty smile, and spoke his mind. “I am dreaming of old Boston,” he said, and wiped his jaws. [Illustration: THE BIG EARED RAT OF BOSTON] “I have often HEARD of Boston,” and he folded in his paws, “Boston, Massachusetts, a mountain bold and great. I will tell you all about it, if you care to curl and wait. [Sidenote: _If I cannot sing in the aspens’ tongue, If I know not what they say, Then I have never gone to school, And have wasted all my day._] “In the Boston of my beauty-sleep, when storm-flowers are in bloom, When storm-lilies and storm-thistles and storm-roses are in bloom, The faithful cats go creeping through the catnip-ferns, _And_ rainbows, _and_ sunshine, _and_ gloom, And pounce upon the Boston Mice, that tremble underneath the flowers, And pounce upon the big-eared rats, and drag them to the tomb. For we are Tom-policemen, vigilant and sure. We keep the Back Bay ditches and potato cellars pure. Apples are not bitten into, cheese is let alone. [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 THE BOSTON MOUSE WAITS IN TERROR OF THE MOUNTAIN-CAT, UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE STORM-ROSE] [Sidenote: _Come, let us whisper of men and beasts And joke as the aspens do, And yet be solemn in their way, And tell our thoughts All summer through, In the morning, In the frost, And in the midnight dew._] Sweet corn is left upon the cob, and the beef left on the bone. Every Sunday morning, the Pilgrims give us codfish balls, Because we keep the poisonous rats from the Boston halls.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. “I have never seen, in the famous Hub, suppression of the rat.” “So much the worse for Boston,” said the whiskery mountain-cat. And the cat continued his great dream, closing one shrewd eye: “The Tower-of-Babel Cactus blazes above the sky. Fangs and sabers guard the buds and crimson fruits on high. Yet cactus-eating eagles and black hawks hum through the air. When the pigeons weep in Copley Square, look up, those wings are there, [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 THE TOWER-OF-BABEL CACTUS BLAZES ABOVE THE SKY] [Sidenote: _The mountain-cat seems violent, And of no good intent. Yet read his words so gently No bird will leave its tree, No child will hate the simper or the noise And hurry away from you and me. Read like a meditative, catlike willow-tree._] [Sidenote: _Some words about singing this song, Are scattered this border along._] Proud Yankee birds of prey, overshadowing the land, Screaming to younger Yankees of the self-same brand, Whose talk is like the American flag, snapping on the summit-pole, Sky-rocket and star-spangled words, round sunflower words, they use them whole. There are no tailors in command, men seem like trees in honest leaves. Their clothes are but their bark and hide, and sod and binding for their sheaves. Men are as the shocks of corn, as natural as alfalfa fields. And no one yields to purse or badge; only to sweating manhood yields, To natural authority, to wisdom straight from the new sun. Who is the bull-god of the herd? The strongest and the shaggiest one. Or if they preen at all, they preen with Walter Raleigh’s gracious pride:-- The forest-ranger! One grand show! With gun and spade slung at his side! Up on the dizzy timber-line, arbiter of life and fate, Where sacred frost shines all the year, and freezing bee and mossflower mate. [Sidenote: _Read like the Mariposa with the stately stem, With green jade leaves like ripples and like waves, And white jade petals, Smooth as foam can be-- The Mariposa lily, that is leaning upon the young stream’s hem, Speaking grandly to that larger flower That grows down toward the sea, hour after hour Hunting for the Pacific storms and caves._] “Boston is tough country, and the ranger rides with death, Plunges to stop the forest fire against the black smoke’s breath, Buries the cattle killed by eating larkspur lush and blue, Shoots the calf-thieves, lumber-thieves, and gets train-robbers too. [Sidenote: _Some words about singing this song, Are scattered this border along._] Governor and Sheriff obey his ordering hand, Following his ostrich plume across the amber sand. “But often, for lone days he goes, exploring cliffs afar, And chants his King James’ Bible to tarantula and star. I hear him read Egyptian tales, as he rides by in the dawn. I am sometimes an Egyptian cat. My crudities are gone. He spells, in Greek, that Homer, as he hurries on alone. I hear him scan at Virgil, as I hide behind a stone. “He had kept me fond of Hawthorne, and Thoreau, cold and wise. The silvery waves of Walden Pond, gleam in a bobcat’s eyes. He has taught us grateful beasts to sing, like Orpheus of old. The Boston forest ranger brings back the Age of Gold.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 A BACK-BAY WHALE] “I have never heard, in the cultured Hub, of rowdy men like that.” “So much the worse for Boston,” said the Rocky Mountain cat. [Sidenote: _Sing like the Mariposa to the stream that seeks the sea, Speak like that flower, With still, Olympian jest, And cuplike word Filling the hour._] And the cat purred on, in his great dream, as one who seeks the noblest ends:-- “Higher than the Back Bay whales, that spout and leap, and bite their friends, Higher than those Moby-Dicks, the Boston Lover’s trail ascends. Higher than the Methodist, or Unitarian spire, Beyond the range of any fence of bowlder or barbed wire, Telling to each other what the Boston Boys have done, The lodge-pole pines go towering to the timber-line and sun. And their whisper stirs love’s fury in each pantherish girl-child, Till she dresses like a columbine, or a bleeding heart gone wild. Like a harebell, golden aster, bluebell, Indian arrow, Blue jay, squirrel, meadow lark, loco, mountain sparrow. Mayflower, sagebrush, dying swan, they court in disarray. The masquerade, in Love’s hot name, is like a forest-play. And she is held in worship who adores the noblest boys. So miner-lovers bring her new amazing pets and toys. Mewing, prowling hunters bring her grizzlies in chains. Ranchers bring red apples through the silver rains. In the mountain of my beauty-sleep, when storm-flowers Are in bloom, The Boston of my beauty-sleep, when storm-flowers Are in bloom. There are just such naked waterfalls, as are roaring there below. For the springs of Boston Common are from priceless summer snow. Serene the wind-cleared Boston peaks, and there white rabbits run Like funny giant snowflakes, hopping in the sun. The ptarmigan will leap and fly and clutter through the drift And the baby ptarmigans ‘peep, peep,’ when the weasel eyelids lift. And where the pools are still and deep, dwarf willows see themselves, And the Boston Mariposas bend, like mirror-kissing elves. White is the gypsum cliff, and white the snowbird’s warm, deep-feathered home, White are the cottonwood and birch, white is the fountain-foam. “In the waterfalls from the sunburnt cliffs, the bold nymphs leap and shriek The wrath of the water makes them fight, its kisses make them weak. With shoulders hot with sunburn, with bodies rose and white, And streaming curls like sunrise rays, or curls like flags of night, Flowing to their dancing feet, circling them in storm, And their adorers glory in each lean, Ionic form. Oh, the hearts of women, then set free. They live the life of old That chickadees and bobcats sing, the famous Age of Gold.... They sleep and star-gaze on the grass, their red-ore camp fires shine, Like heaps of unset rubies spilled on velvet superfine. And love of man and maid is when the granite weds the snow-white stream. The ranch house bursts with babies. In the wood-lot deep eyes gleam, Buffalo children, barking wolves, fuming cinnamon bears. Human mustangs kick the paint from the breakfast-table chairs.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. “I have never heard, in the modest Hub, of a stock ill-bred as that.” “So much the worse for Boston,” said the lecherous mountain-cat. And the cat continued with the dream, as the snow blew round in drifts. “The caves beneath the craggy sides of Boston hold tremendous gifts For many youths that enter there, and lift up every stone that lifts. They wander in, and wander on, finding all new things they can, Some forms of jade or chrysoprase, more rare than radium for man. And the burro trains, to fetch the loot, are jolly fool parades. The burros flap their ears and bray, and take the steepest grades. Or loaded with long mining-drills, and railroad rails, and boards for flumes, Up Beacon Hill with fossil bats, swine bones from geologic tombs, Or loaded with cliff-mummies of lost dwellers of the land. Explorers’ yells and bridle bells sound above the sand. “In the desert of my beauty-sleep, when rainflowers Will not bloom, In the Boston of my beauty-sleep, when storms Will not bloom, [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 THE BAT] By Bunker Hill’s tall obelisk, till the August sun awakes, I brood and stalk blue shadows, and my mad heart breaks. Thoughts of a hunt unutterable ring the obelisk around. And a thousand glorious sphinxes spring, singing, from the ground. Very white young Salem witches ride them down the west. The gravel makes a flat, lone track, the eye has endless rest. Fair girls and beasts charge, dreaming, through the salt-sand white as snow, Hunting the three-toed pony, while mysterious slaughters flow. And the bat from the salt desert sucks the clouds on high Until they fall in ashes, and all the sky is dry. Oh, the empty Spanish Missions, where the bells ring without hand, As we drive the shadowy dinosaurs and mammoths through the sand.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. “I have never seen, in the sun-kissed Hub, circuses like that.” “So much the worse for you, my cub,” said the slant-eyed mountain-cat. And the cat continued with his yarn, while I stood there marveling:-- “I here proclaim that I am not a vague, an abstract thing. I like to eat the turkey-leg, the lamb, the chickenwing. Yet the cat that knows not fasting, the cat that knows not dream, That has not drunk dim mammoth-blood from the long-dead desert stream, That has not rolled in the alkali-encrusted pits of bones By the saber-toothed white tiger’s cave, where he kicked the ancient stones, Has not known sacred Boston. Our gods are burning ore. Our Colorado gods are the stars of heaven’s floor. But the god of Massachusetts is a Tiger they adore. “From that saber-tooth’s ghost-purring goes the whispered word of power In the sunset, in the moonlight, in the purple sunrise hour:-- That an Indian chief is born, in a teepee, to the west, That a school of rattlesnakes is rattling, on the mountain’s breast, That an opal has been grubbed from the ground by a mole, That a bumble-bee has found a new way to save his soul. In Egyptian granite Boston, the rumor has gone round That new ways to tame the whirlwind have been marvelously found. That a Balanced Rock has fallen, that a battle has been won In the soul of some young touch-me-not, some tigerish Emerson.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. “Boston people do not read their Emerson like that.” “So much the worse for Boston,” said the self-reliant cat. Then I saw the cat there towering, like a cat cut from a hill:-- A prophet-beast of Nature’s law, staring with stony will, Pacing on the icy top, then stretched in drowsy thought, Then, listening, on tiptoe, to the voice the snowwind brought, Tearing at the fire-killed pine trees, kittenish again, Then speaking like a lion, long made president of men:-- “There are such holy plains and streams, there are such sky-arched spaces, There are life-long trails for private lives, and endless whispering places. Range is so wide there is not room for lust and poison breath And flesh may walk in Eden, forgetting shame and death.” And then I contradicted him, in a manner firm and flat. “I have never heard, in Boston, of anything like that.” “_Boston is peculiar._ _Boston is mysterious._ _You do not know your Boston_,” said the wise, fastidious cat, And turned again to lick the skull of his prey, the mountain-rat! And at that, he broke off his wild dream of a perfect human race. And I walked down to the aspen grove where is neither time nor place, Nor measurement, nor space, except that grass has room And aspen leaves whisper on forever in their grace. All day they watch along the banks. All night the perfume goes From the Mariposa’s chalice to the marble mountain-rose, In the Boston of their beauty-sleep, when storm-flowers Are in bloom, In the mystery of their beauty-sleep, when storm-flowers Are in bloom. [Illustration: ROCKETS ON THE WAY TO SATURN] THE ROCKETS THAT REACHED SATURN On the Fourth of July sky rockets went up Over the church and the trees and the town, Stripes and stars, riding red cars. Each rocket wore a red-white-and-blue gown, And I did not see one rocket come down. Next day on the hill I found dead sticks, Scorched like blown-out candle-wicks. But where are the rockets? Up in the sky. As for the sticks, let them lie. Dead sticks are not the Fourth of July. In Saturn they grow like wonderful weeds, In some ways like weeds of ours, Twisted and beautiful, straight and awry, But nodding all day to the heavenly powers. The stalks are smoke, And the blossoms green light, And crystalline fireworks flowers. [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 ROCKETS IN SATURN] MEDITATION A spirit in soft slippers Walked the Gulf Stream floor. She opened many a cabin door Of ships a long time underseas. She read long-rest Egyptian books And looked upon skull-faces, And read their restless looks Shining through the shadows Of phosphorescent streaming waves,-- Impatient for the Judgment horn To lift them from their purple graves. [Illustration] THE TRAVELER The Moon’s a devil-jester Who makes himself too free. The rascal is not always Where he appears to be:-- Sometimes he is in my heart-- Sometimes in the sea. Then tides are in my heart, And tides are in the sea. O traveler! abiding not Where he pretends to be! [Illustration: THE MOON IS A DEVIL-JESTER VACHEL LINDSAY 1922] ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sat gossiping with Robert. (She was really a raving beauty in her day. With Mary Pickford curls in clouds and whirls.) She was trying to think of something nice to say, So she pointed to a page by her fellow star and sage, And said: “I wish that _I_ could write that way!” [Illustration] SOME BALLOONS GROW ON TREES FOR BETSY RICHARDS Some balloons grow on trees, On rubber trees, indeed. You plant old rubber-boots for seed. Some balloons grow on trees. If you want them red, You pour red ink into the boots, There in the balloon bed, And blue ink if you want them blue. But if you desire them green, Just let it pass. They will turn green to match the grass. Some balloons grow on trees. And if you do not spray them soon With water-pots of hellebore You will not have One ripe balloon. Mosquitoes will bite them in the night Explode them like a thunder-storm And give the town a fright. [Illustration] Some balloons grow on trees. If they grow too fast And are not gathered every day The infants stand aghast To see them tear up by the roots The trees on which they grew And scatter dirt on the front walk And disappear from view Into the blue. BABYLON’S GARDENS ARE BURNING There, on the shores of the river Euphrates, Babylon’s gardens are burning this morning. Prophets warned, Prophets prophesied, But no one in Babylon heeded the warning. [Illustration: BABYLON’S GARDENS ARE BURNING VACHEL LINDSAY 1922] [Illustration] IN THE BEAUTY PARLORS A jumbo so vain, and fond of his shape Had himself beautified by a gray ape, Tattooed and gilded with elegant signs, The latest and merriest monkey designs. Then the ape rode the jumbo And made the land gape, As he sat at his ease in the elephant chair. He had tattooed himself with designs from a shawl, And he gathered a grape with a self-possessed air, And threw down a twig at another fine ape. [Illustration: VACHEL LINDSAY 1922 THE APE RODE THE JUMBO] [Illustration] A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN A duck within the harem of a drake who ran for president Swam in his parade, and made it an event. She carried a big card of his footprints and she said:-- “He waddles like an arrow, straight ahead.” [Illustration] OLD JUDGE HOOT OWL Old Judge Hoot Owl sits by his inkwell Writing wills for the wealthy and swell. He knows something he won’t tell. Three little house flies, drowned in his inkwell. Three little scandals in a peanut shell. [Illustration] PEARLS Now she was fond of jewelry, The Lady-of-Fiddle-Dee-Dee, So she built her house Near an oyster bed, Where the pearls were almost free. [Illustration] THE LAND HORSE AND THE SEA HORSE The Land Horse Everybody rides, Until his eyes are dim. [Illustration: THE LAND HORSE] [Illustration] The Sea Horse! Every wave he rides. And nobody Rides him. [Illustration: THE SEA HORSE VACHEL LINDSAY 1922] [Illustration] CONCERNING THE MOUSE WITH TWO TAILS The cat was astonished To see the mouse stand there, Waving two tails, With a confident air. [Illustration] WORDS ABOUT AN ANCIENT QUEEN INSCRIBED WITH APOLOGIES TO LYTTON STRACHEY Queen Hat-shep-sut, pious and fat Wore a hair net under her hat. Queen Hat-shep-sut, restrained and refined Wore a hair net over her mind. [Illustration] *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOING-TO-THE-SUN *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.