Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг)

On a Lady Singing

She bade us listen to the singing lark
In tones far sweeter than its own:
For fear that she should cease and leave us dark
We built the bird a feigned throne,
Shrined in her gracious glory-giving ways
From sceptred hands of starred humility-
Praising herself the more in giving praise
To music less than she. 

1. The Nun
2. Sleep
3. Girl To A Soldier On Leave
4. God
5. A Girls Thoughts

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