Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/147



Small dazzling face! I shut you in my soul; How can I perish now?

But thence a strange decay— Your fragile gleaming wrists Waver my days and shake my life To golden tremors. I have no life at all, Only thin golden tremors That shudder over the abyss of days Which hedged my spirit, my spirit your prison walls That shrunk like phantasms with your vivid beauty—

Towering and widening till The sad moonless place Throngs with a million torches And spears of flaming wings.