1 year ago

Poems by Isaac Rosenberg


; POEMS BY ISAAC ROSENBERG You small at the roots like grass ; While the new lips my spirit would kiss Were not red lips of flesh, But the huge kiss of power ? Where yesterday soft hair through my fingers fell A shaggy mane would entwine And no slim form work fire to my thighs, But human Life's inarticulate mass Throb the pulse of a thing Whose mountain flanks awry Beg my mastery—mine ! Ah ! I will ride the dizzy beast of the world My road— my way.

! MOSES Scene II. : Evening before Thebes. The Pyramids are being built. Swarms of Hebrews labouring. Priests and Taskmasters. Two Hebrews are furtively talking. Koelue passes by singing. Koelue The vague viols of evening- Call all the flower clans To some abysmal swinging And tumult of deep trance ; He may hear, flower of my singing, And come hither winging. Old Hebrew [Gazing after her in a muffled frenzy.^ Hateful harlot ! Boils cover your small cruel face. O, fine champion Moses : O, so good to us : O, grand begetter on her of a whip and a torturer, Her father, born to us since you kissed her. Our champion, O so good to us 63