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1873–1941

THE DESTROYER

Lola Ridge

I am of the wind... A wisp of the battering wind... I trail my fingers along the Alps And an avalanche falls in my wake...

I feel in my quivering length When it buries the hamlet beneath... I hurriedly sweep aside The cities that clutter our path...

As we whirl about the circle of the globe... As we tear at the pillars of the world... Open to the wind, The Destroyer!

The wind that is battering at your gates.

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THE DESTROYER · Lola Ridge · Poetry Cove