Isaac Rosenberg

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,

Sombre the night is
And though we have our lives, we
What sinister threat lies there
Dragging these anguished limbs, we only

In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire, Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned
His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls
The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat To him
On fragments of an old shrunk power...

My eyes catch ruddy
Sturdily pressed back -All a red brick moving glint
Like flaming pendulums,
Swing across the khaki -Mustard-coloured khaki -To the automatic feet

I love you, great new Titan
Am I not you
Napoleon or
Out of you grew

Girl To A Soldier On
Love
You love me — your
Have looked through death at mine

Snow is a strange white word
No ice or
Has asked of bud or
For Winter's cost

The darkness crumbles
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,

I snatched two poppies From the parapet’s ledge,
Two bright red poppies That winked on the ledge
Behind my ear I stuck one through,
One blood red poppy I gave to you

Ah,
Koelue
Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go,
Or change in any way,

The plunging limbers over the shattered track Racketed with their rusty freight, Stuck out like many crowns of thorns, And the rusty stakes like sceptres old To stay the flood of brutish men Upon our brothers dear
The wheels lurched over spra...

Nudes — stark and glistening,
Yelling in lurid glee
Grinning
And raging