Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold-- Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying-- Gold at the uttermost circles fading Into the tenderest hint of jade, Or fusing in tremulous twilight blues, Robing the far-flung offices, Scintillant-storied, forking flame, Or soaring to luminous amethyst Over the steeples aureoled.
Life You have been good to me.... You have not made yourself too dear to juggle with. - Lola Ridge
Life You have been good to me.... You have not made yourself too dear to juggle with.
- Lola Ridge
Better--while life is quick And every pain immense and joy supreme, And all I have and am Flames upward to the dream ... Than like a taper forgotten … - Lola Ridge
Better--while life is quick And every pain immense and joy supreme, And all I have and am Flames upward to the dream ... Than like a taper forgotten …
Let me cradle myself back Into the darkness Of the half shapes ... Of the cauled beginnings ... Let me stir the attar of unused air, Elusive ... iron… - Lola Ridge
Let me cradle myself back Into the darkness Of the half shapes ... Of the cauled beginnings ... Let me stir the attar of unused air, Elusive ... iron…
I shall know you, secrets by the litter you have left and by your bloody footprints. - Lola Ridge
I shall know you, secrets by the litter you have left and by your bloody footprints.
As for the common men apart, Who sweat to keep their common breath, And have no hour for books or art-- What dreams have these to hide from death! - Lola Ridge
As for the common men apart, Who sweat to keep their common breath, And have no hour for books or art-- What dreams have these to hide from death!
Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold-- Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying-- Gold at the uttermost circles fading… - Lola Ridge
Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold-- Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying-- Gold at the uttermost circles fading…
Night calls to the sandhills and gathers them under her. She pushes away cities because their sharp lights hurt her soft breast. Even candles make a … - Lola Ridge
Night calls to the sandhills and gathers them under her. She pushes away cities because their sharp lights hurt her soft breast. Even candles make a …
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