The Immortals
Isaac Rosenberg
I killed them, but they would not die. Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep, Nor guard from them nor hide in flight. Then in my agony I turned And made my hands red in their gore. In vain - for faster than I slew They rose more cruel than before. I killed and killed with slaughter mad; I killed till all my strength was gone. And still they rose to torture me, For Devils only die in fun. I used to think the Devil hid In womens smiles and wines carouse. I called him Satan, Balzebub. But now I call him, dirty louse.
Next 10 Poems
- Isaac Rosenberg : The Jew
- Isaac Rosenberg : Through These Pale Cold Days
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Better Resurrection
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Better Resurrrection
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Birthday
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A City Plum
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Daughter Of Eve
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Discovery
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Handy Mole
- Christina Georgina Rossetti : A Pause
Previous 10 Poems
- Isaac Rosenberg : Returning, We Hear The Larks
- Isaac Rosenberg : On Receiving News Of The War
- Isaac Rosenberg : Louse Hunting
- Isaac Rosenberg : In The Trenches
- Isaac Rosenberg : God
- Isaac Rosenberg : Dead Man's Dump
- Isaac Rosenberg : Break Of Day In The Trenches
- Theodore Roethke : The Waking
- Theodore Roethke : The Survivor
- Theodore Roethke : The Storm