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Poem by Isaac Rosenberg
The Female God
We curl into your eyes- They drink our files and have never drained : In the fierce forest of your hair Our desires beat blindly for their treasure. In your eyes' subtle pit, Far down, glimmer our souls ; And your hair like massive forest trees Shadows our pulses, overtired and dumb. Like a candle lost in an electric glare Our spirits tread your eyes' infinities : In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locks Do you not hear the moaning of our pulses ? Queen ! Goddess! Animal! In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls ? When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillow Do not our jealous pulses wake between ? You have dethroned the ancient God, You have usurped his Sabbath, his common days; Yea, every moment is delivered to you, Our Temple, our Eternal, our one God ! Our souls have passed into your eyes, Our days into your hair; And you, our rose-deaf prison, are very pleased with the world, Your world.
Isaac Rosenberg's other poems:
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