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Poem of the week: Manhattan by Lola Ridge

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An intensely dynamic vision of New York City in the early 20th century raises questions about its gilded allure

Manhattan

Out of the night you burn, Manhattan,
In a vesture of gold –
Span of innumerable arcs,
Flaring and multiplying –
Gold at the uttermost circles fading
Into the tenderest hint of jade,
Or fusing in tremulous twilight blues,
Robing the far-flung offices,
Scintillant-storied, forking flame,
Or soaring to luminous amethyst
Over the steeples aureoled –

Diaphanous gold,
Veiling the Woolworth, argently
Rising slender and stark
Mellifluous-shrill as a vender’s cry,
And towers squatting graven and cold
On the velvet bales of the dark,
And the Singer’s appraising
Indolent idol’s eye,
And night like a purple cloth unrolled –

Nebulous gold
Throwing an ephemeral glory about life’s vanishing points,
Wherein you burn …
You of unknown voltage
Whirling on your axis …
Scrawling vermillion signatures
Over the night’s velvet hoarding …
Insolent, towering spherical
To apices ever shifting.

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