Lola Ridge

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

Lola Ridge Poems

41. Secrets 2/8/2012
42. Mama 2/8/2012
43. Spring 4/21/2010
44. The Ghetto 4/21/2010
45. Promenade 4/21/2010
46. Scandal 2/8/2012
47. Lullaby 4/21/2010
48. Snow Dance For The Dead 4/21/2010
49. East River 2/8/2012
50. Comrades 2/8/2012
51. Monologues 2/8/2012
52. Cactus Seed 2/8/2012
53. Fuel 4/21/2010
54. Frank Little At Calvary 4/21/2010
55. After Storm 2/8/2012
56. The Star 4/21/2010
57. Electricity 2/8/2012
58. Histrionics 4/21/2010
59. An Old Workman 2/8/2012
60. North Wind 4/21/2010
61. Palestine 4/21/2010
62. Brooklyn Bridge 2/8/2012
63. Emma Goldman 2/8/2012
64. Spires 4/21/2010
65. Dedication 4/21/2010
66. Celia 2/8/2012
67. A Worn Rose 4/21/2010
68. Dawn Wind 4/21/2010
69. Debris 4/21/2010
70. Babel 4/21/2010
71. Altitude 2/8/2012
72. Bowery Afternoon 4/21/2010
73. Mother 12/17/2014
74. A Toast 4/21/2010
75. Flotsam 2/8/2012
76. Faces 4/21/2010
77. Art And Life 4/21/2010
78. Manhattan 4/21/2010
79. Dreams 4/21/2010
80. A Memory 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

Art And Life

When Art goes bounding, lean,
Up hill-tops fired green
To pluck a rose for life.

Life like a broody hen
Cluck-clucks him back again.

But when Art, imbecile,
Sits old and chill

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