First World War Poetry Digital Archive

August 1914

AUGUST 1914 by ISAAC ROSENBERG

What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart's dear granary? The much we shall miss?

Three lives hath one life--- Iron, honey, gold. The gold, the honey gone--- Left is the hard and cold.

Iron are our lives Molten right through our youth. A burnt space through ripe fields, A fair mouth's broken tooth.

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