Here you will find the Poem Drying Their Wings of poet Vachel Lindsay
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.