First World War Poetry Digital Archive

Marching-as seen from the left file

MARCHING---AS SEEN FROM THE LEFT FILE by ISAAC ROSENBERG

My eyes catch ruddy necks Sturdily pressed back,--- All a red brick moving glint. Like flaming pendulums, hands Swing across the khaki--- Mustard-coloured khaki--- To the automatic feet.

We husband the ancient glory In these bared necks and hands. Not broke is the forge of Mars; But a subtler brain beats iron To shoe the hoofs of death (Who paws dynamic air now). Blind fingers loose an iron cloud To rain immortal darkness On strong eyes.

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