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
The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets.
Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.