Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/93



[To himself.] So, sister Miriam, it is known then. Slave, you die. [Aloud.] O, you ambiguous stench, You'll be more interesting as a mummy I have no doubt.

I’m drunk, yes—drenched with the thought Of a certain thing. [Aside.] I'll sleep sounder to-night Than all the nights I've followed him about Worrying each slight clue, each monosyllable To give the word to Imra: the prince is near, And Moses' eyes shall blink before next hour To a hundred javelins. I’ll tease him till they come. [Aloud.] On Koelue's tears I swam to you, in a mist Of her sighs I hung round you; As in some hallucination I've been walking A white waste world, we two only in it.

Doubtless the instinct balked to bully the girl, Making large gapings in your haschish dreams,