Category Archives: Isaac Rosenberg

poem – the female god

We curl into your eyes- They drink our files and have never drained : In the fierce forest of your hair Our desires beat blindly for their treasure. In your eyes’ subtle pit, Far down, glimmer our souls ; And … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the one lost

I mingle with your bones: You steal in subtle noose This lighted dust .Jehovah loans And now I lose. What will the Lender say When I shall not be found, Safe-sheltered at the Judgment Day, Being in you bound ? … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the nun

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks, Too loth to show her face- Why should she shun the world ? It is a holy place. Concealed to itself If the flower kept its scent, Of itself amorous, Less rich its ornament. Use-utmost … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – a mood

You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid- Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid : O ! Joys whose jewels pray My breast to be inlaid. Frail fairy of the streets ; Strong, … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – the troop ship

Grotesque and queerly huddled Contortionists to twist The sleepy soul to a sleep, We lie all sorts of ways And cannot sleep. The wet wind is so cold, And the lurching men so careless, That, should you drop to a … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – of any old man

Wreck not the ageing heart of quietness, With alien uproar and rude jolly cries, Which satyr like to a mild maidens pride, Ripens not wisdom, but a large recoil, Give them their withered peace, their trial grave, Their old youth’s … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

poem – creation

As the pregnant womb of night Thrills with imprisoned light, Misty, nebulous-born, Growing deeper into her morn, So man, with no sudden stride, Bloomed into pride. In the womb of the All-spirit The universe lay ; the will Blind, an … Continue reading

Rate this:

Posted in Isaac Rosenberg | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment