Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/129

 Spent—were charged To make a place for them who knew No pain in any place.

The good priest came to pray; Our ears half heard, And half we thought Of alien things, irrelevant; And the heat and thirst were great.

The good priest read: "I heard... Dimly my brain Held words and lost.... Sudden my blood ran cold.... God! God! It could not be.

He read my brother's name; I sank— I clutched the priest. They did not tell me it was he Was killed three days ago.

What are the great sceptred dooms To us, caught In the wild wave? We break ourselves on them, My brother, our hearts and years.