THE IMMORTALS by ISAAC ROSENBERG
I killed them but they would not die. Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep, Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.
Then in my agony I turned And made my hands red in their gore. In vain---for faster than I slew They rose more cruel than before.
I killed and killed with slaughter mad; I killed till all my strength was gone. And still they rose to torture me, For Devils only die in fun.
I used to think the devil hid In women's smiles and wine's carouse. I called him Satan, Balzebub. But now I call him, dirty louse.
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|Author||Rosenberg, Isaac (1890-1918)|
|Copyright||The Isaac Rosenberg Literary Estate. Preliminaries and editorial matter omitted.|
|First line||I killed them, but they would not die.|
|Publication source||The Collected Poems of Isaac Rosenberg|
|Publication editor||Bottomley, Gordon and Harding, Denys|
|Publishers||Chatto Windus Ltd.|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|