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 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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