Lola Ridge

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

To The Others


I see you, refulgent ones,
Burning so steadily
Like big white arc lights…
There are so many of you.
I like to watch you weaving -
Altogether and with precision
Each his ray -
Your tracery of light,
Making a shining way about America.

I note your infinite reactions -
In glassware
And sequin
And puddles
And bits of jet -
And here and there a diamond…

But you do not yet see me,
Who am a torch blown along the wind,
Flickering to a spark
But never out.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Edited: Wednesday, February 08, 2012

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