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POEMS BY ISAAC ROSENBERG<br />
Young<br />
Hebrew<br />
For shame! Our brothers 1 twisted blood-smeared<br />
"111 us<br />
Tell we only have more room for wreck curtailed :<br />
For you, having no teeth to draw, it is no mercy<br />
Perhaps; but they might mangle your gums<br />
Or touch a nerve somewhere. He barred it now<br />
And that is all his thanks, he, too, in peril.<br />
Be still, old man ; wait a little.<br />
Wait<br />
Old Hebrew<br />
All day some slow dark quadruped beats<br />
To pulp our springiness :<br />
All day some hoofed animal treads our veins,<br />
Leisurely—leisurely our energies flow out<br />
All agonies created from the first day<br />
Have wandered hungry searching the world for us,<br />
Or they would perish like disused Behemoth.<br />
Is our Messiah one to unleash these agonies<br />
As Moses does, who gives us an Abinoah ?<br />
Young Hebrew<br />
Yesterday as I lay nigh dead with toil<br />
Underneath the hurtling crane oiled with our<br />
blood,<br />
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