Isaac Rosenberg

“The plunging fire of the stars, the dark profound.”

“The darkness crumbles away. It is the same old druid Time as ever.”

“Poppies whose roots are in man's veins drop, and are ever dropping.”

“What fierce imaginings their dark souls lit.”

“A man's brains splattered on a stretcher-bearer's face.”

“I am determined that this war, with all its powers for devastation, shall not master my poeting.”

“Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat.”

“The wheels lurched over sprawled dead.”

“But a burnt patch on a dead man’s back.”

“My youth is but a husk of sorrow.”

“I have not brought my muse toliet gear, and she lives in my knapsack.”

“Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes, less chanced than you for life.”

“The air is loud with death.”

“A god whose face was charred.”

“I killed them, but they would not die.”

“Iron are the gates of the sun.”

“Who hurled them out? Who hurled them out? None saw their spirits' shadow shake the grass.”

“We whom the storm-winds battered.”

“The flesh hangs lax on the bone, And the spirit’s song is a groan.”

“Cosmopolitan sympathies, Jewish instincts, and English taste.”