Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг)
August 1914
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.
Isaac Rosenberg’s other poems:
