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Poem by Isaac Rosenberg


The Troop Ship


Grotesque and queerly huddled
Contortionists to twist
The sleepy soul to a sleep,
We lie all sorts of ways
And cannot sleep.
The wet wind is so cold,
And the lurching men so careless,
That, should you drop to a doze,
Winds' fumble or men's feet
Are on your face. 



Isaac Rosenberg


Isaac Rosenberg's other poems:
  1. The Nun
  2. A Question
  3. Sleep
  4. Home-Thoughts From France
  5. Don Juans Song


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