APPARITION by ISAAC ROSENBERG
From her hair's unfelt gold My days are twined. As the moon weaves pale daughters her hand may never fold.
Her eyes are hidden pools Where my soul lies Glimmering in their waters Like faint and troubled skies.
Dream pure, her body's grace, A streaming light Scatters delicious fire Upon my limbs and face.
|Author||Rosenberg, Isaac (1890-1918)|
|Copyright||The Isaac Rosenberg Literary Estate. Preliminaries and editorial matter omitted.|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|