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Poem by Isaac Rosenberg
From Night And Day
IN THE WORKSHOP I Dim watery lights gleaming on gibbering faces, Faces speechful, barren of soul and sordid, Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd and gabbled insidious: Laughter, born of its dung, flashes and floods like sunlight, Filling the room with a sense of a soul lethargic and kindly, Touches my soul with a pathos, a hint of a wide desolation. II I saw the face of God to-day, I heard the music of His smile, And yet I was not far away, And yet in Paradise the while. I lay upon the sparkling grass, And God's own mouth was kissing me, And there was nothing that did pass But blazed with divinity. Divine-divine-upon my eyes, Upon mine hair-divine--divine, The fervour of the golden skies, The ardent gaze of God on mine. III Then snake I to the tree,' Were ye your own desire What is it ye would be?' Answered the tree to me, 'I am my own desire, I am what 1 would be. 'If you were your desire Would you lie under me, And see me as you see?' 'I am my own desire While I lie under you, And that which I would be Desire will sing to you.' IV I wander-I wander-0 will she wander here Where'er my footsteps carry me I know that she is near, A jewelled lamp within her hand and jewels in her hair ; I lost her in a vision once and seek her everywhere. My spirit whispers she is near, I look at you and you : Surely she has not passed me, I sleeping as she flew. I wander-I wander, and yet she is not here, Although my spirit whispers to me that she is near.
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