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Poem by Isaac Rosenberg


Sleep


Godhead's lip hangs
When our pulses have no golden tremors,
And his whips are flicked by mice
And all star-amorous things.

Drops, drops of shivering quiet
Filter under my lids.
Now only am I powerful.
What though the cunning gods outwit us here
In daytime and in playtime,
Surely they feel the gyres we lay on them
In our sleep.

0, subtle gods lying hidden!
0, gods with your oblique eyes !
Your elbows in the dawn, and wrists
Bright with the afternoon,
1)o you not shake when a mortal slides
Into your own unvexed peace ?

When a moving stillness breaks over your knees
(An emanation of piled (eons' pressures),
From our bodies flat and straight,
And your limbs are locked,
Futilely gods',
And shut your sinister essences.



Isaac Rosenberg


Isaac Rosenberg's other poems:
  1. The Nun
  2. God
  3. My Days
  4. If You Are Fire
  5. Girl To A Soldier On Leave


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Abraham Cowley Sleep ("In vain, thou drowsy God! I thee invoke")
  • Henry Longfellow Sleep ("Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound")
  • James Johnson Sleep ("O Sleep, thou kindest minister to man")
  • John Tabb Sleep ("When he is a little chap")

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