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Lola Ridge
December 12, 1873 - May 19, 1941
Poetry Listing
Please Note: This list is not comprehensive, but is an ongoing work of the love of poetry.
Within this area you will be able to read, and give your thoughts on the poetry listed.
Please, if you find an error, let me know.
Read More About Lola Ridge below poetry list
| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads | | 1: | A Memory | I remember | | 19 | 334 | | 2: | A Toast | Not your martyrs anointed of heaven | | 28 | 328 | | 3: | A Worn Rose | Where to-day would a dainty buyer | | 16 | 373 | | 4: | After Storm | Was there a wind? | | 31 | 288 | | 5: | Altitude | I wonder | | 11 | 328 | | 6: | An Old Workman | Warped... gland-dry.. | | 6 | 302 | | 7: | Art And Life | When Art goes bounding, lean, | | 14 | 351 | | 8: | Babel | Oh, God did cunningly, there at Babel | | 4 | 314 | | 9: | Bowery Afternoon | Drab discoloration | | 16 | 285 | | 10: | Broadway | Light! | | 47 | 347 | | 11: | Brooklyn Bridge | Pythoness body - arching | | | 281 | | 12: | Cactus Seed | Radiant notes | | 48 | 340 | | 13: | Comrades | Life | | 4 | 311 | | 14: | Dawn Wind | Wind, just arisen | | 23 | 271 | | 15: | Debris | I love those spirits | | 7 | 331 | | 16: | Dedication | I would be a torch unto your hand, | | 19 | 267 | | 17: | Dedication (To my Mother) | Let me cradle myself back | | 11 | 338 | | 18: | Dispossessed | Tender and tremulous green of leaves | | 20 | 305 | | 19: | Dreams | Men die... | | 9 | 318 | | 20: | East River | Dour river | | 7 | 360 | | 21: | Electricity | Out of fiery contacts... | | 8 | 335 | | 22: | Emma Goldman | How should they appraise you, | | 8 | 302 | | 23: | Faces | A late snow beats | | 45 | 347 | | 24: | Flotsam | Crass rays streaming from the vestibules; | | 78 | 271 | | 25: | Frank Little At Calvary | He walked under the shadow of the Hill | | 100 | 290 | | 26: | Fuel | What of the silence of the keys | | 12 | 287 | | 27: | In Harness | The foreman's head | | 61 | 316 | | 28: | Interim | The earth is motionless | | 8 | 290 | | 29: | Iron Wine | The ore in the crucible is pungent, smelling like acrid wine, | | 12 | 278 | | 30: | Jaguar | Nasal intonations of light | | 29 | 317 | | 31: | Lullaby | Rock-a-by baby, woolly and brown... | | 32 | 332 | | 32: | Manhattan | Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, | | 29 | 284 | | 33: | Mother | Your love was like moonlight | | 52 | 387 | | 34: | Nocturne | Indigo bulb of darkness | | 17 | 325 | | 35: | North Wind | I love you, malcontent | | 19 | 287 | | 36: | Palestine | Old plant of Asia | | 7 | 294 | | 37: | Potpourri | Do you remember | | 9 | 268 | | 38: | Promenade | Undulant rustlings, | | 29 | 301 | | 39: | Reveille | Come forth, you workers! | | 49 | 362 | | 40: | Scandal | Aren't there bigger things to talk about | | 12 | 340 | | 41: | Secrets | Secrets | | 18 | 514 | | 42: | Skyscrapers | Skyscrapers... remote, unpartisan... | | 8 | 267 | | 43: | Sons Of Belial | We are old, | | 78 | 314 | | 44: | Spires | Spires of Grace Church, | | 7 | 292 | | 45: | Spring | A spring wind on the Bowery, | | 41 | 344 | | 46: | Submerged | I have known only my own shallows | | 13 | 293 | | 47: | Sun-Up | Shadows over a cradle... | | 900 | 309 | | 48: | Thaw | Blow through me wind | | 10 | 310 | | 49: | The Destroyer | I am of the wind... | | 13 | 281 | | 50: | The Dream | I have a dream | | 17 | 319 | | 51: | The Edge | I thought to die that night in the solitude where they would never find me... | | 37 | 262 | | 52: | The Everlasting Return | It is dark... so dark, I remember the sun on Chios | | 82 | 304 | | 53: | The Fiddler | In a little Hungarian cafe | | 13 | 304 | | 54: | The Fire | The old men of the world have made a fire | | 16 | 321 | | 55: | The Fog | Out of the lamp-bestarred and clouded dusk - | | 11 | 368 | | 56: | The Foundling | Snow wraiths circle us | | 22 | 348 | | 57: | The Garden | Bountiful Givers, | | 29 | 308 | | 58: | The Ghetto | Cool, inaccessible air | | 1031 | 281 | | 59: | The Legion Of Iron | They pass through the great iron gates | | 31 | 276 | | 60: | The Song | That day, in the slipping of torsos and straining flanks on the bloodied ooze of fields plowed by the iron | | 19 | 297 | | 61: | The Song Of Iron | Not yet hast Thou sounded | | 125 | 274 | | 62: | The Star | Last night | | 4 | 321 | | 63: | The Tidings (Easter 1916) | Censored lies that mimic truth... | | 12 | 268 | | 64: | The Woman With Jewels | The woman with jewels sits in the cafe, | | 21 | 308 | | 65: | Time-Stone | Hallo, Metropolitan | | 17 | 304 | | 66: | To Alexander Berkman | Can you see me, Sasha? | | 36 | 304 | | 67: | To Larkin | Is it you I see go by the window, Jim Larkin | | 8 | 283 | | 68: | To The American People | Will you feast with me, American People? | | 7 | 310 | | 69: | To The Others | I see you, refulgent ones, | | 19 | 308 | | 70: | Train Window | Small towns | | 17 | 331 | | 71: | Under-Song | There is music in the strong | | 32 | 327 | | 72: | Wall Street At Night | Long vast shapes... cooled and flushed through with darkness.... | | 8 | 299 | | 73: | Wild Duck | That was a great night we spied upon | | 37 | 274 | | 74: | Wind Rising In The Alleys | Wind rising in the alleys | | 9 | 313 |
About:
Lola Ridge was an anarchist poet and an influential editor of avant-garde, feminist, and Marxist publications best remembered for her long poems and poetic sequences. She, along with other political poets of the early Modernist period, has been coming under increasing critical scrutiny at the beginning of the twenty-first century.
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