Lola Ridge (Лола Ридж)

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. Dawn Wind
2. Frank Little at Calvary
3. The Ghetto
4. “The Everlasting Return”
5. Fuel

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1830

Последние стихотворения

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