| |
I killed them, but they would not die.
Yea! all the day and all the night
For them I could not rest or sleep,
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.
Then in my agony I turned
And made my hands red in their gore.
In vain - for faster than I slew
They rose more cruel than before.
I killed and killed with slaughter mad;
I killed till all my strength was gone.
And still they rose to torture me,
For Devils only die in fun.
I used to think the Devil hid
In women’s smiles and wine’s carouse.
I called him Satan, Balzebub.
But now I call him, dirty louse.
Isaac Rosenberg
Read poems about / on: rose, fun, women, strength, red, sleep, night, woman, smile
|
|
User Rating: |
|
6.8
/10
(8 votes) |
|
|
|
Isaac Rosenberg
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend