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Poems by Isaac Rosenberg

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The<br />

:<br />

MOSES<br />

A steel to break his manacles : hard for us<br />

Moses has made him overseer. O, his slits<br />

sell to Imra. . . .<br />

Pry —<br />

pry. . . . For what ? . . . To<br />

Sh !<br />

[Aisinoah is seen approaching:]<br />

thin-lipped abomination !<br />

Zig-zagging haschish tours in a fine style<br />

It were delightful labour making bricks,<br />

Knowing they would kiss friendly with his head.<br />

Abixoah<br />

[ Who has been taking haschish ; and who has one<br />

obsession, hatred of Jews.]<br />

Dirt-draggled mongrels, circumcised slaves,<br />

You puddle with your lousy gibberish<br />

The holy air, Pharaoh's own tributary :<br />

Filthy manure for Pharaoh's flourishing,<br />

circumcise and make holy your tongues,<br />

I'll<br />

And stop one outlet to your profanation.<br />

[To the<br />

Old Hebrew.]<br />

IVe never seen one beg so for a blow ;<br />

Too soft am I to resist such entreaty.<br />

[Beats him.]<br />

Your howling holds the earnest energies<br />

You cheat from Pharaoh when you make his bricks.<br />

69

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