The Dream

I have a dream
to fill the golden sheath
of a remembered day....
heavy and massed and blue
as the vapor of opium...
fired in sulphurous mist...
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?

by Lola Ridge

Comments (4)

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.
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
But the day is an up-turned cup and its sun a junk of red iron... - I just adore that line.