Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/198



We curl into your eyes— They drink our fires and have never drained; In the fierce forest of your hair Our desires beat blindly for their treasure.

In your eyes' subtle pit, Far down, glimmer our souls; And your hair like massive forest trees Shadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.

Like a candle lost in an electric glare Our spirits tread your eyes' infinities; In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locks Do you not hear the moaning of our pulses?

Queen! Goddess! Animal! In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls? When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillow Do not our jealous pulses wake between?