Isaac Rosenberg

(25 November 1890 – 1 April 1918 / Bristol / England)

Isaac Rosenberg Poems

41. At Night 4/28/2012
42. Girl To A Soldier On Leave 4/12/2010
43. Ah, Koelue 4/12/2010
44. Of Any Old Man 4/12/2010
45. Spring 4/12/2010
46. Marching (As Seen From The Left File) 4/12/2010
47. Soldier: Twentieth Century 4/12/2010
48. ‘a Worm Fed On The Heart Of Corinth' 4/12/2010
49. The Troop Ship 4/12/2010
50. God 1/3/2003
51. On Receiving News Of The War 1/3/2003
52. Louse Hunting 1/3/2003
53. The Jew 1/3/2003
54. August 1914 4/12/2010
55. The Immortals 1/3/2003
56. In The Trenches 1/3/2003
57. Returning, We Hear The Larks 1/3/2003
58. Through These Pale Cold Days 1/3/2003
59. Dead Man's Dump 1/3/2003
60. Break Of Day In The Trenches 1/3/2003

Comments about Isaac Rosenberg

  • Daniel Nunn Daniel Nunn (11/10/2017 9:34:00 AM)

    I wish my homework was on someone else.
    P.S. Glass of Jews please butler.

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Da Boss (10/19/2016 6:55:00 AM)

    I really like this bloke we are gs. You should join our squad.

  • Azad Bongobasi Azad Bongobasi (4/16/2015 2:06:00 AM)

    hello poet, I like your poem. from bangladesh

Best Poem of Isaac Rosenberg

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, ...

Read the full of Break Of Day In The Trenches

Louse Hunting

Nudes -- stark and glistening,
Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning faces
And raging limbs
Whirl over the floor one fire.
For a shirt verminously busy
Yon soldier tore from his throat, with oaths
Godhead might shrink at, but not the lice.
And soon the shirt was aflare
Over the candle he'd lit while we lay.

[Report Error]