WIND  RISING  IN  THE  ALLEYS by Lola Ridge

My  spirit  lifts  in  you  like  a  banner 

streaming  free  of  hot  walls. 
You  are  full  of  unspent  dreams.  .  .  . 
You  are  laden  with  beginnings.  .  .  . 
There  is  hope  in  you  .  .  .  not  sweet  .  . 

acrid  as  blood  in  the  mouth. 
Come  into  my  tossing  dust 
Scattering  the  peace  of  old  deaths, 
Wind  rising  in  the  alleys, 
Carrying  stuff  of  flame.