Poem by Isaac Rosenberg

A Girls Thoughts

Dim apprehension of a trust
Comes over me this quiet hour,
As though the silence were a flower,
And this, its perfume, dark like dust.

My individual self would cling
Through fear, through pride, unto its fears :
It strives to shut out what it hears,
The founts of being murmuring.

0 ! Need, whose hauntings terrorize;
Whether my maiden ways would hide,
Or lose and to that need subside,
Life shrinks and instinct dreads surprise.

1. Soldier: Twentieth Century
2. The Dying Soldier
3. The Dead Heroes
4. The Song of Tel the Nubian
5. Marching

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