Here you will find the Poem Tidings of poet Lola Ridge
(Easter 1916) Censored lies that mimic truth? Censored truth as pale as fear? My heart is like a rousing bell - And but the dead to hear? My heart is like a mother bird, Circling ever higher, And the nest-tree rimmed about By a forest fire? My heart is like a lover foiled By a broken stair - They are fighting to-night in Sackville Street, And I am not there!
