Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/146

 Your honey spilt round that small dazzling face Shakes me to golden tremors; I have no life at all, Only thin golden tremors. Light tender beast! Your fragile gleaming wrists Have shaken the scaled glacier from under me, And bored into my craft That is now with the old dreamy Adam With other things of dust.

You lazy hound! See my poor child.