POEMS BY ISAAC ROSENBERG
Unfathomable is my mouth's dream
Do not men say?
So secret are my far eyes,
Weaving for iron men profound subtleties.
Sorceress they name me;
And my eyes harden, and they say,
"How may those eyes know love
If God made her without a heart?
"Her tears, her moaning,
Her sad profound gaze,
The dishevelled lustres of her hair
Moon-storm like" they say,
"These are her subtleties" men say.
My husband sleeps,
The ghosts of my virgin days do not trouble him
His sleep can be over-long,
For there is that in my embers
Pride and blushes of fire, the outraged blood,
His sleep makes me remember.
Sleep, hairy hunter; sleep!
You are not hungry more,
Having fed on my deliciousness ;
Your sleep is not adultery to me,
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