Debris
I love those spirits That men stand off and point at, Or shudder and hood up their souls-- Those ruined ones, Where Liberty has lodged an hour And passed like flame, Bursting asunder the too small house.
Lola Ridge
I love those spirits That men stand off and point at, Or shudder and hood up their souls-- Those ruined ones, Where Liberty has lodged an hour And passed like flame, Bursting asunder the too small house.
Lola Ridge’s speaker declares love for people most others avoid or condemn—the ruined, the pointed-at, the ones who make respectable people flinch and hide their souls. These are not just victims; they are people in whom Liberty briefly lived.
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