Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/167



And all her soft dark hair Breathed for him like a prayer, And her white lost face Was prisoned to some far place. Love was not denied— Love's ends would hide, And flower and fruit and tree Were under its sea. Yea, its abundance knelt Where the nerves felt The springs of feeling flow And made pain grow! There seemed no root or sky, But a pent infinity Where apparitions dim Sculptured each whim In flame and wandering mist Of kisses to be kist.