Returning, We Hear The Larks

Isaac Rosenberg

Sombre the night is.
And though we have our lives, we know
What sinister threat lies there.

Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know
This poison-blasted track opens on our camp -
On a little safe sleep.

But hark! joy - joy - strange joy.
Lo! heights of night ringing with unseen larks.
Music showering our upturned listning faces.

Death could drop from the dark
As easily as song -
But song only dropped,
Like a blind mans dreams on the sand
By dangerous tides,
Like a girls dark hair for she dreams no ruin lies there,
Or her kisses where a serpent hides.

Index + Blog :

Poetry Archive Index | Blog : Poem of the Day