Here you will find the Poem A Memory of poet Lola Ridge
I remember The crackle of the palm trees Over the mooned white roofs of the town? The shining town? And the tender fumbling of the surf On the sulphur-yellow beaches As we sat? a little apart? in the close-pressing night. The moon hung above us like a golden mango, And the moist air clung to our faces, Warm and fragrant as the open mouth of a child And we watched the out-flung sea Rolling to the purple edge of the world, Yet ever back upon itself? As we? Inadequate night? And mooned white memory Of a tropic sea? How softly it comes up Like an ungathered lily.
