Lola Ridge

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

Lola Ridge Poems

81. Wall Street At Night 2/8/2012
82. Wild Duck 2/8/2012
83. Wind Rising In The Alleys 2/8/2012
84. Windows 2/8/2012
Best Poem of Lola Ridge

The Dream

I have a dream
to fill the golden sheath
of a remembered day....
heavy and massed and blue
as the vapor of opium...
fired in sulphurous mist...
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 Toast

Not your martyrs anointed of heaven -
The ages are red where they trod -
But the Hunted - the world's bitter leaven -
Who smote at your imbecile God -

A being to pander and fawn to,
To propitiate, flatter and dread
As a thing that your souls are in pawn to,
A Dealer who traffics the dead;

[Hata Bildir]