Poem – A Girls Thoughts – Isaac Rosenberg

Dim apprehension of a trust 

Comes over me this quiet hour, 

As though the silence were a flower, 

And this, its perfume, dark like dust. 
My individual self would cling 

Through fear, through pride, unto its fears : 

It strives to shut out what it hears, 

The founts of being murmuring. 
0 ! Need, whose hauntings terrorize; 

Whether my maiden ways would hide, 

Or lose and to that need subside, 

Life shrinks and instinct dreads surprise.

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