Back to Index


by Lola Ridge, 1920

I wonder
how it would be here with you,
where the wind
that has shaken off its dust in low valleys
touches one cleanly,
as with a new-washed hand,
and pain
is as the remote hunger of droning things,
and anger
but a little silence
sinking into the great silence.

Published in Sun-Up, and Other Poems

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.