Break of Day in the Trenches
The darkness crumbles away
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your cosmopolitan sympathies,
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver -what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in men's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe,
Just a little white with the dust.
Isaac Rosenberg's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Break of Day in the Trenches by Isaac Rosenberg )
- A Bystander, Sibghatullah Khan
- A Leaf of Small Boat, Rose Lu ( Bing hua )
- Forget Forgive Focus Follow and have Fai.., Dimitri Jagodinski
- I Wrote Too Much, Shalom Freedman
- If You are Sad, Turn the Pages, Hebert Logerie
- Time Flies, Tony Adah
- The Troika's Gone, sasha yarlexolnikov
- I Am as Dull as Everyday, Sara Fielder
- Vendémiaire Wednesdays, sasha yarlexolnikov
- Incandescent Drapes, sasha yarlexolnikov