Page:Poems by Isaac Rosenberg (1922).djvu/94

 Led you to me in whom she was thoroughly lost. Pah, you sicken me!

Prince Imra is Pharaoh's choice now, and Koelue's.

Silence, you beast!

I hate these family quarrels: it is so Like fratricide. I am a rebel, well? Soft! You are not, and we are knit so close It would be shame for a son to be so honoured And the father still unknown: come, Koelue's (so my) father, I'll tell my plans—you'll beg to be rebel then. Look round on the night— Old as the first, bleak, even her wish is done; She has never seen, though dreamt perhaps of the sun, Yet only dawn divides; could a miracle