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Poems by Isaac Rosenberg

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;:<br />

:<br />

MOSES<br />

Thinking to end all and let the crane crush me,<br />

He came <strong>by</strong> and bore me into the shade<br />

O, what a furnace roaring in his blood<br />

Thawed my congealed sinews and tingled my own<br />

Raging through me like a strong cordial.<br />

He spoke ! Since yesterday<br />

Am I not larger grown ?<br />

IVe seen men hugely shapen in soul,<br />

Of such unhuman shaggy male turbulence<br />

They tower in foam miles from our neck-strained<br />

sight,<br />

And to their shop only heroes come<br />

But all were cripples to this speed<br />

Constrained to the stables of Mesh.<br />

I say there is a famine in ripe harvest<br />

When hungry giants come as guests<br />

Come knead the hills and ocean into food,<br />

There is none for him.<br />

The streaming vigours of his blood erupting<br />

From his halt tongue are like an anger thrust<br />

Out of a madman's piteous craving for<br />

A monstrous balked perfection.<br />

Old Hebrew<br />

He is a prince, an animal<br />

Not of our kind ; who perhaps has heard<br />

65 k

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