Poems by Isaac Rosenberg

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR
anchored. We have lived in such an elemental
way so long, things here don't look quite right to
me somehow ; or it may be the consciousness of
my so limited time here for freedom—so little
time to do so many things bewilders me.
'
The
Unicorn,' as will be obvious, is just a basis; its
final form will be very different, I hope." 1
On returning to France he was taken ill and
sent down the line. The time in hospital was a
relief, especially as his restlessness in England had
prevented writing or reading.
To Miss Section {dated February 14, 1918).
" We had a rough time in the trenches with
the mud, but now we're out for a bit of a rest,
and I will try and write longer letters. You
must know by now what a rest behind the line
means. I can call the evenings—that is, from tea
to lights out—my own ; but there is no chance
whatever for seclusion or any hope of writing
poetry now. Sometimes I give way and am appalled
at the devastation this life seems to have
made in my nature. It seems to have blunted
me. I seem to be powerless to compel my will to
any direction, and all I do is without energy and
interest."
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