Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/153



Call—call—and bruise the air: Shatter dumb space! Yea! We will fling this passion everywhere; Leaving no place

For the superb and grave Magnificent throng, The pregnant queens of quietness that brave And edge our song

Of wonder at the light (Our life-leased home), Of greeting to our housemates. And in might Our song shall roam

Life's heart, a blossoming fire Blown bright by thought, While gleams and fades the infinite desire, Phantasmed naught.