Lola Ridge

(December 12, 1873- May 19, 1941 / Dublin)

Lola Ridge Poems

41. Palestine 4/21/2010
42. Portraits 2/8/2012
43. Potpourri 2/8/2012
44. Promenade 4/21/2010
45. Reveille 2/8/2012
46. Scandal 2/8/2012
47. Secrets 2/8/2012
48. Skyscrapers 2/8/2012
49. Snow Dance For The Dead 4/21/2010
50. Sons Of Belial 2/8/2012
51. Spires 4/21/2010
52. Spring 4/21/2010
53. Submerged 4/21/2010
54. Sun-Up 2/8/2012
55. Thaw 2/8/2012
56. The Alley 2/8/2012
57. The Destroyer 4/21/2010
58. The Dream 1/13/2003
59. The Edge 4/21/2010
60. The Everlasting Return 4/21/2010
61. The Fiddler 4/21/2010
62. The Fire 4/21/2010
63. The Fog 4/21/2010
64. The Foundling 4/21/2010
65. The Garden 4/21/2010
66. The Ghetto 4/21/2010
67. The Legion Of Iron 4/21/2010
68. The Song 4/21/2010
69. The Song Of Iron 4/21/2010
70. The Spilling Of The Wine 4/21/2010
71. The Star 4/21/2010
72. The Tidings 4/21/2010
73. The White Bird 4/21/2010
74. The Woman With Jewels 4/21/2010
75. To Alexander Berkman 2/8/2012
76. To Larkin 2/8/2012
77. To The American People 2/8/2012
78. To The Others 4/21/2010
79. Train Window 2/8/2012
80. Under-Song 4/21/2010
Best Poem of Lola Ridge

The Dream

I have a dream
to fill the golden sheath
of a remembered day....
(Air
heavy and massed and blue
as the vapor of opium...
domes
fired in sulphurous mist...
sea
quiescent as a gray seal...
and the emerging sun
spurting up gold
over Sydney, smoke-pale, rising out of the bay....)
But the day is an up-turned cup
and its sun a junk of red iron
guttering in sluggish-green water--
where shall I pour my dream?

Read the full of The Dream

A Worn Rose

Where to-day would a dainty buyer
Imbibe your scented juice,
Pale ruin with a heart of fire;
Drain your succulence with her lips,
Grown sapless from much use…
Make minister of her desire
A chalice cup where no bee sips -
Where no wasp wanders in?

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