1 year ago

Poems by Isaac Rosenberg

MOSES Is not this song

MOSES Is not this song still sung in the streets of me ? A naked African Walked in the sun Singing—singing Of his wild love. I slew the tiger With your young strength (My tawny panther) Rolled round my life. Three sheep, your breasts And my head between, Grazing together On a smooth slope. Ah ! Koelue ! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go Or change in any way, What were the use if on my eyes The embalming spices were not laid To keep us fixed, Two amorous sculptures passioned endlessly ? What were the use if my sight grew And its far branches were cloud -hung, 61

; 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.