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Isaac Rosenberg
Isaac Rosenberg Poems
| 1. | Don Juans Song | 4/28/2012 |
| 2. | Hearts First Word. Ii | 4/28/2012 |
| 3. | O, In A World Of Men And Women | 4/28/2012 |
| 4. | Tess | 4/28/2012 |
| 5. | In Piccadi | 4/28/2012 |
| 6. | The Nun | 4/28/2012 |
| 7. | The One Lost | 4/28/2012 |
| 8. | Hearts First Word. I. | 4/28/2012 |
| 9. | Isolation : A Fragment | 4/28/2012 |
| 10. | My Days | 4/28/2012 |
| 11. | First Fruit | 4/28/2012 |
| 12. | A Mood | 4/28/2012 |
| 13. | Song | 4/28/2012 |
| 14. | The Burning Of The Temple | 4/28/2012 |
| 15. | The Female God | 4/28/2012 |
| 16. | On A Lady Singing | 4/28/2012 |
| 17. | Sleep | 4/28/2012 |
| 18. | Far Away | 4/28/2012 |
| 19. | In The Underworld | 4/28/2012 |
| 20. | A Girls Thoughts | 4/28/2012 |
| 21. | Chagrin | 4/28/2012 |
| 22. | Dawn | 4/28/2012 |
| 23. | Expression | 4/28/2012 |
| 24. | A Ballad Of Whitechapel | 4/28/2012 |
| 25. | Wedded | 4/28/2012 |
| 26. | The Destruction Of Jerusalem By The Babylonian Hordes | 4/28/2012 |
| 27. | In War | 4/28/2012 |
| 28. | If You Are Fire | 4/28/2012 |
| 29. | The Blind God | 4/28/2012 |
| 30. | Killed In Action | 4/28/2012 |
| 31. | Home-Thoughts From France | 4/28/2012 |
| 32. | Spring, 1916 | 4/28/2012 |
| 33. | Daughters Of War | 4/28/2012 |
| 34. | The Dying Soldier | 4/28/2012 |
| 35. | From Night And Day | 4/28/2012 |
| 36. | Zion | 4/28/2012 |
| 37. | Beauty | 4/28/2012 |
| 38. | A Careless Heart | 4/28/2012 |
| 39. | A Question | 4/28/2012 |
| 40. | Girl To A Soldier On Leave | 4/12/2010 |
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, ...
The Immortals
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.
