|The Rhyme Maker
Ridge (1873-1941), Australian/American poet
ore in the crucible is pungent, smelling like
is dusky red, like the ebb of poppies,
purple, like the blood of elderberries.
it is a strong wine - juice distilled of the
am drunk of its fumes.
feel its fiery flux
some strange alchemy . . .
that I turn aside from the goodly board,
that I look askance upon the common cup,
from the mouths of crucibles
forth the acrid sap.
From The Ghetto
and Other Poems (1918)
Lola Ridge at Project Gutenberg
BOTTLED POETRY: Verses from the Vine
VINTAGE WINE POEMS NEW PRESSINGS
vinted and bottled by Stephen H. Bass