Isaac Rosenberg

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

The Troop Ship - Poem by Isaac Rosenberg

Grotesque and queerly huddled
Contortionists to twist
The sleepy soul to a sleep,
We lie all sorts of ways
And cannot sleep.
The wet wind is so cold,
And the lurching men so careless,
That, should you drop to a doze,
Winds' fumble or men's feet
Are on your face.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010

Poem Edited: Friday, November 25, 2011


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