Poem by Lola Ridge

Debris

  I love those spirits
  That men stand off and point at,
  Or shudder and hood up their souls--
  Those ruined ones,
  Where Liberty has lodged an hour
  And passed like flame,
  Bursting asunder the too small house.

1. To the Others
2. The Destroyer
3. The Foundling
4. Broadway
5. Palestine

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