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. The Song
2. A Worn Rose
3. Broadway
4. North Wind
5. Frank Little at Calvary

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