®

Today's poem is by Isaac Rosenberg

Returning, We Hear the Larks

Sombre the night is.
And thought we have our lives, we know
What sinister threat lurks there.

Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know
This poison-blasted track opens on our camp —
On a little safe sleep.

But hark! joy — joy — strange joy.
Lo! heights of night ringing with unseen larks.
Music showering our upturned list'ning faces.

Death could drop from the dark
As easily as song —
But song only dropped,
Like a blind man's dreams on the sand
By dangerous tides,
Like a girl's dark hair for she dreams no ruin lies there,
Or her kisses where a serpent hides.



Copyright © 2004 Isaac Rosenberg All rights reserved
from Selected Poems and Letters
Enitharmon
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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