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Poem by Isaac Rosenberg
So thy soul's meekness shrinks, Too loth to show her face- Why should she shun the world? It is a holy place. Concealed to itself If the flower kept its scent, Of itself amorous, Less rich its ornament. Use-utmost in each kind- Is beauty, truth in one, While soul rays light to soul In one God-linked sun.
Isaac Rosenberg's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org