YOUNG HEBREW

For shame! Our brothers’ twisted blood-smeared gums

Tell we only have more room for wreck curtailed:

For you, having no teeth to draw, it is no mercy

Perhaps; but they might mangle your gums

Or touch a nerve somewhere. He barred it now;

And that is all his thanks, he, too, in peril.

Be still, old man; wait a little.

Poems by Isaac Rosenberg · 第 21 / 133 题