Here you will find the Poem Art And Life of poet Lola Ridge
When Art goes bounding, lean, Up hill-tops fired green To pluck a rose for life. Life like a broody hen Cluck-clucks him back again. But when Art, imbecile, Sits old and chill On sidings shaven clean, And counts his clustering Dead daisies on a string With witless laughter?. Then like a new Jill Toiling up a hill Life scrambles after.
