The Dream Poem by Lola Ridge
The Dream
I have a dream
to fill the golden sheath
of a remembered day....
(Air
heavy and massed and blue
as the vapor of opium...
domes
fired in sulphurous mist...
sea
quiescent as a gray seal...
and the emerging sun
spurting up gold
over Sydney, smoke-pale, rising out of the bay....)
But the day is an up-turned cup
and its sun a junk of red iron
guttering in sluggish-green water--
where shall I pour my dream?
it is all describung the industrial world that we live in and the corupted people by opium and how do they were efective in corupting everything even the water which turn green and so it is admirable i like it
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Whenever I visit Sydney from Brisbane [rarely] I see beauty. Not in the pollution or people but the harbor and the beaches. Sounds like you need a holiday.
The ideal should inform the attainable....... compromise and pragmagism ...otherwise greed destroys life....... education and culture could hone the ability to observe, appreciate, and comment on social vice can lead to change except in times like ours with an unethical, greedy, lazy, complacent and blind congress!
Beautiful poem. Love the imagery. Industrial pollution shows its ugliness everywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/31/2024 7:46:35 PM # 1.0.0
But the day is an up-turned cup and its sun a junk of red iron... - I just adore that line.