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TSE  September 2001

TSE September 2001

Subject:

RE: Isaac Rosenberg poems

From:

"Arwin van Arum" <[log in to unmask]>

Date:

Mon, 3 Sep 2001 22:30:38 +0200

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text/plain

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Pre-Concluded

He is war, I'm a salary negotiation
He is bang, I am whimper
He is fear, I am angst
He mourns the dead rat figuratively,
I morn the dead cat literally.

Yrs,
A.
  -----Oorspronkelijk bericht-----
  Van: [log in to unmask]
[mailto:[log in to unmask]]Namens [log in to unmask]
  Verzonden: zondag 2 september 2001 21:42
  Aan: [log in to unmask]
  Onderwerp: Isaac Rosenberg poems


  Below, 6 poems by Isaac Rosenberg, to save y'all from the special hell
  reserved for people who talk about Rosenberg instead of reading him.

  I'm trying to find out when Eliot first saw his work, and what he saw. So
if
  anyone notices, please let me know.

  best,

  pat
  ================================================
  Isaac Rosenberg (1890-1918)

  Contents

  God
  Dead Man's Dump
  The Jew
  Break of Day in the Trenches
  Louse Hunting
  Through these pale cold days

  --------------------------------------
  God

  In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,
  Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!
  His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls.
  The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat
  To him. On fragments of an old shrunk power,
  On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry,
  He lay, a bullying hulk, to crush them more.
  But  when  one,  fearless, turned  and  clawed  like bronze,
  Cringing was easy to blunt these stern paws,
  And he would weigh the heavier on those after.
  Who rests in God's mean flattery now? Your wealth
  Is but his cunning to make death more hard.
  Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking.
  And he has made the market for your beauty
  Too poor to buy, although you die to sell.
  Only that he has never heard of sleep;
  And when the cats come out the rats are sly.
  Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn.
  But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots,
  And in the morning some pale wonder ceases.
  Things  are  not  strange  and  strange  things  are forgetful.
  Ah! if the day were arid, somehow lost
  Out of us, but it is as hair of us,
  And only in the hush no wind stirs it.
  And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes,
  And restlessness still shadows the lost ways.
  The fingers shut on voices that pass through,
  Where blind farewells are taken easily . . .
  Ah! this miasma of a rotting God!


  --------------------------------------
  Dead Man's Dump


  Dead Man's Dump
  The plunging limbers over the shattered track
  Racketed with their rusty freight,
  Stuck out like many crowns of thorns,
  And the rusty stakes like sceptres old
  To stay the flood of brutish men
  Upon our brothers dear.
  The wheels lurched over sprawled dead
  But pained them not, though their bones crunched,
  Their shut mouths made no moan,
  They lie there huddled, friend and foeman,
  Man born of man, and born of woman,
  And shells go crying over them
  From night till night and now.
  Earth has waited for them
  All the time of their growth
  Fretting for their decay:
  Now she has them at last!
  In the strength of their strength
  Suspended--stopped and held.
  What fierce imaginings their dark souls lit
  Earth! have they gone into you?
  Somewhere they must have gone,
  And flung on your hard back
  Is their souls' sack,
  Emptied of God-ancestralled essences.
  Who hurled them out? Who hurled?
  None saw their spirits' shadow shake the grass,
  Or stood aside for the half used life to pass
  Out of those doomed nostrils and the doomed mouth,
  When the swift iron burning bee
  Drained the wild honey of their youth.
  What of us, who flung on the shrieking pyre,
  Walk, our usual thoughts untouched,
  Our lucky limbs as on ichor fed,
  Immortal seeming ever?
  Perhaps when the flames beat loud on us,
  A fear may choke in our veins
  And the startled blood may stop.
  The air is loud with death,
  The dark air spurts with fire
  The explosions ceaseless are.
  Timelessly now, some minutes past,
  These dead strode time with vigorous life,
  Till the shrapnel called 'an end!'
  But not to all. In bleeding pangs
  Some borne on stretchers dreamed of home,
  Dear things, war-blotted from their hearts.
  A man's brains splattered on
  A stretcher-bearer's face;
  His shook shoulders slipped their load,
  But when they bent to look again
  The drowning soul was sunk too deep
  For human tenderness.
  They left this dead with the older dead,
  Stretched at the cross roads.
  Burnt black by strange decay,
  Their sinister faces lie
  The lid over each eye,
  The grass and coloured clay
  More motion have than they,
  Joined to the great sunk silences.
  Here is one not long dead;
  His dark hearing caught our far wheels,
  And the choked soul stretched weak hands
  To reach the living word the far wheels said,
  The blood-dazed intelligence beating for light,
  Crying  through  the suspense of the  far  torturing wheels
  Swift for the end to break,
  Or the wheels to break,
  Cried as the tide of the world broke over his sight.
  Will they come? Will they ever come?
  Even as the mixed hoofs of the mules,
  The quivering-bellied mules,
  And the rushing wheels all mixed
  With his tortured upturned sight,
  So we crashed round the bend,
  We heard his weak scream,
  We heard his very last sound,
  And our wheels grazed his dead face.



  --------------------------------------

  THE JEW


  1     Moses, from whose loins I sprung,
  2     Lit by a lamp in his blood
  3     Ten immutable rules, a moon
  4     For mutable lampless men.
  5     The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy,
  6     With the same heaving blood,
  7     Keep tide to the moon of Moses.
  8     Then why do they sneer at me?


  --------------------------------------

  Break of Day in the Trenches


  The darkness crumbles away.
  It is the same old druid Time as ever,
  Only a live thing leaps my hand,
  A queer sardonic rat,
  As I pull the parapet's poppy
  To stick behind my ear.
  Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
  Your cosmopolitan sympathies.
  Now you have touched this English hand
  You will do the same to a German
  Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
  To cross the sleeping green between.
  It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
  Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
  Less chanced than you for life,
  Bonds to the whims of murder,
  Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
  The torn fields of France.
  What do you see in our eyes
  At the shrieking iron and flame
  Hurled through still heavens ?
  What quaver--what heart aghast?
  Poppies whose roots are in man's veins
  Drop, and are ever dropping;
  But mine in my ear is safe--
  Just a little white with the dust.


  --------------------------------------

  Louse Hunting


  Nudes--stark and glistening,
  Yelling in lurid glee. Grinning faces
  And raging limbs
  Whirl over the floor one fire.
  For a shirt verminously busy
  Yon soldier tore from his throat, with oaths
  Godhead might shrink at, but not the lice.
  And soon the shirt was aflare
  Over the candle he'd lit while we lay.
  Then we all sprang up and stript
  To hunt the verminous brood.
  Soon like a demons' pantomime
  The place was raging.
  See the silhouettes agape,
  See the gibbering shadows
  Mixed with the battled arms on the wall.
  See gargantuan hooked fingers
  Pluck in supreme flesh
  To smutch supreme littleness.
  See the merry limbs in hot Highland fling
  Because some wizard vermin
  Charmed from the quiet this revel
  When our ears were half lulled
  By the dark music
  Blown from Sleep's trumpet.


  --------------------------------------

  Through these pale cold days



  1     Through these pale cold days
  2     What dark faces burn
  3     Out of three thousand years,
  4     And their wild eyes yearn,
  5     While underneath their brows
  6     Like waifs their spirits grope
  7     For the pools of Hebron again--
  8     For Lebanon's summer slope.
  9     They leave these blond still days
  10   In dust behind their tread
  11   They see with living eyes
  12   How long they have been dead.





  

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<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN=20
class=3D549411520-03092001>Pre-Concluded</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN=20
class=3D549411520-03092001></SPAN></FONT>&nbsp;</DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN =
class=3D549411520-03092001>He is=20
war, I'm a salary negotiation</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN =
class=3D549411520-03092001>He is=20
bang, I am whimper</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN =
class=3D549411520-03092001>He is=20
fear, I am angst</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN =
class=3D549411520-03092001>He=20
mourns the dead rat figuratively, </SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN =
class=3D549411520-03092001>I morn=20
the dead cat literally.</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV>&nbsp;</DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN=20
class=3D549411520-03092001>Yrs,</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT color=3D#0000ff face=3DArial size=3D2><SPAN=20
class=3D549411520-03092001>A.</SPAN></FONT></DIV>
<BLOCKQUOTE=20
style=3D"BORDER-LEFT: #0000ff 2px solid; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; PADDING-LEFT: =
5px">
  <DIV align=3Dleft class=3DOutlookMessageHeader dir=3Dltr><FONT =
face=3DTahoma=20
  size=3D2>-----Oorspronkelijk bericht-----<BR><B>Van:</B>=20
  [log in to unmask] =
[mailto:[log in to unmask]]<B>Namens=20
  </B>[log in to unmask]<BR><B>Verzonden:</B> zondag 2 september 2001=20
  21:42<BR><B>Aan:</B> [log in to unmask]<BR><B>Onderwerp:</B> Isaac =

  Rosenberg poems<BR><BR></DIV></FONT><FONT face=3Darial,helvetica><FONT =

  size=3D2>Below, 6 poems by Isaac Rosenberg, to save y'all from the =
special hell=20
  <BR>reserved for people who talk about Rosenberg instead of reading =
him.=20
  <BR><BR>I'm trying to find out when Eliot first saw his work, and what =
he saw.=20
  So if <BR>anyone notices, please let me know. <BR><BR>best, =
<BR><BR>pat=20
  =
<BR>=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=
=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=3D=
 <BR>Isaac Rosenberg=20
  (1890-1918) <BR><BR>Contents <BR><BR>God=20
  =
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&=
nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n=
bsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
  <BR>Dead Man's Dump=20
  =
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&=
nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
  <BR>The Jew=20
  =
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&=
nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&n=
bsp;=20
  <BR>Break of Day in the Trenches &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; =
<BR>Louse=20
  Hunting=20
  =
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&=
nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
  <BR>Through these pale cold days &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;=20
  <BR><BR>-------------------------------------- <BR>God <BR><BR>In his=20
  malodorous brain what slugs and mire, <BR>Lanthorned in his oblique =
eyes,=20
  guttering burned! <BR>His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls. =
<BR>The=20
  world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat <BR>To him. On =
fragments of an=20
  old shrunk power, <BR>On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry, <BR>He =
lay, a=20
  bullying hulk, to crush them more. <BR>But &nbsp;when &nbsp;one,=20
  &nbsp;fearless, turned &nbsp;and &nbsp;clawed &nbsp;like bronze, =
<BR>Cringing=20
  was easy to blunt these stern paws, <BR>And he would weigh the heavier =
on=20
  those after. <BR>Who rests in God's mean flattery now? Your wealth =
<BR>Is but=20
  his cunning to make death more hard. <BR>Your iron sinews take more =
pain in=20
  breaking. <BR>And he has made the market for your beauty <BR>Too poor =
to buy,=20
  although you die to sell. <BR>Only that he has never heard of sleep; =
<BR>And=20
  when the cats come out the rats are sly. <BR>Here we are safe till he =
slinks=20
  in at dawn. <BR>But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots, <BR>And =
in the=20
  morning some pale wonder ceases. <BR>Things &nbsp;are &nbsp;not =
&nbsp;strange=20
  &nbsp;and &nbsp;strange &nbsp;things &nbsp;are forgetful. <BR>Ah! if =
the day=20
  were arid, somehow lost <BR>Out of us, but it is as hair of us, =
<BR>And only=20
  in the hush no wind stirs it. <BR>And in the light vague trouble lifts =
and=20
  breathes, <BR>And restlessness still shadows the lost ways. <BR>The =
fingers=20
  shut on voices that pass through, <BR>Where blind farewells are taken =
easily .=20
  . . <BR>Ah! this miasma of a rotting God!=20
  <BR><BR><BR>-------------------------------------- <BR>Dead Man's Dump =

  <BR><BR><BR>Dead Man's Dump <BR>The plunging limbers over the =
shattered track=20
  <BR>Racketed with their rusty freight, <BR>Stuck out like many crowns =
of=20
  thorns, <BR>And the rusty stakes like sceptres old <BR>To stay the =
flood of=20
  brutish men <BR>Upon our brothers dear. <BR>The wheels lurched over =
sprawled=20
  dead <BR>But pained them not, though their bones crunched, <BR>Their =
shut=20
  mouths made no moan, <BR>They lie there huddled, friend and foeman, =
<BR>Man=20
  born of man, and born of woman, <BR>And shells go crying over them =
<BR>From=20
  night till night and now. <BR>Earth has waited for them <BR>All the =
time of=20
  their growth <BR>Fretting for their decay: <BR>Now she has them at =
last!=20
  <BR>In the strength of their strength <BR>Suspended--stopped and held. =

  <BR>What fierce imaginings their dark souls lit <BR>Earth! have they =
gone into=20
  you? <BR>Somewhere they must have gone, <BR>And flung on your hard =
back <BR>Is=20
  their souls' sack, <BR>Emptied of God-ancestralled essences. <BR>Who =
hurled=20
  them out? Who hurled? <BR>None saw their spirits' shadow shake the =
grass,=20
  <BR>Or stood aside for the half used life to pass <BR>Out of those =
doomed=20
  nostrils and the doomed mouth, <BR>When the swift iron burning bee =
<BR>Drained=20
  the wild honey of their youth. <BR>What of us, who flung on the =
shrieking=20
  pyre, <BR>Walk, our usual thoughts untouched, <BR>Our lucky limbs as =
on ichor=20
  fed, <BR>Immortal seeming ever? <BR>Perhaps when the flames beat loud =
on us,=20
  <BR>A fear may choke in our veins <BR>And the startled blood may stop. =
<BR>The=20
  air is loud with death, <BR>The dark air spurts with fire <BR>The =
explosions=20
  ceaseless are. <BR>Timelessly now, some minutes past, <BR>These dead =
strode=20
  time with vigorous life, <BR>Till the shrapnel called 'an end!' =
<BR>But not to=20
  all. In bleeding pangs <BR>Some borne on stretchers dreamed of home, =
<BR>Dear=20
  things, war-blotted from their hearts. <BR>A man's brains splattered =
on <BR>A=20
  stretcher-bearer's face; <BR>His shook shoulders slipped their load, =
<BR>But=20
  when they bent to look again <BR>The drowning soul was sunk too deep =
<BR>For=20
  human tenderness. <BR>They left this dead with the older dead, =
<BR>Stretched=20
  at the cross roads. <BR>Burnt black by strange decay, <BR>Their =
sinister faces=20
  lie <BR>The lid over each eye, <BR>The grass and coloured clay =
<BR>More motion=20
  have than they, <BR>Joined to the great sunk silences. <BR>Here is one =
not=20
  long dead; <BR>His dark hearing caught our far wheels, <BR>And the =
choked soul=20
  stretched weak hands <BR>To reach the living word the far wheels said, =
<BR>The=20
  blood-dazed intelligence beating for light, <BR>Crying &nbsp;through =
&nbsp;the=20
  suspense of the &nbsp;far &nbsp;torturing wheels <BR>Swift for the end =
to=20
  break, <BR>Or the wheels to break, <BR>Cried as the tide of the world =
broke=20
  over his sight. <BR>Will they come? Will they ever come? <BR>Even as =
the mixed=20
  hoofs of the mules, <BR>The quivering-bellied mules, <BR>And the =
rushing=20
  wheels all mixed <BR>With his tortured upturned sight, <BR>So we =
crashed round=20
  the bend, <BR>We heard his weak scream, <BR>We heard his very last =
sound,=20
  <BR>And our wheels grazed his dead face.=20
  <BR><BR><BR><BR>-------------------------------------- <BR><BR>THE JEW =

  <BR><BR><BR>1 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Moses, from whose loins I =
sprung, <BR>2=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lit by a lamp in his blood <BR>3=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ten immutable rules, a moon <BR>4=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For mutable lampless men. <BR>5=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy, <BR>6=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With the same heaving blood, <BR>7=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Keep tide to the moon of Moses. <BR>8=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then why do they sneer at me?=20
  <BR><BR><BR>-------------------------------------- <BR><BR>Break of =
Day in the=20
  Trenches <BR><BR><BR>The darkness crumbles away. <BR>It is the same =
old druid=20
  Time as ever, <BR>Only a live thing leaps my hand, <BR>A queer =
sardonic rat,=20
  <BR>As I pull the parapet's poppy <BR>To stick behind my ear. =
<BR>Droll rat,=20
  they would shoot you if they knew <BR>Your cosmopolitan sympathies. =
<BR>Now=20
  you have touched this English hand <BR>You will do the same to a =
German=20
  <BR>Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure <BR>To cross the sleeping =
green=20
  between. <BR>It seems you inwardly grin as you pass <BR>Strong eyes, =
fine=20
  limbs, haughty athletes, <BR>Less chanced than you for life, <BR>Bonds =
to the=20
  whims of murder, <BR>Sprawled in the bowels of the earth, <BR>The torn =
fields=20
  of France. <BR>What do you see in our eyes <BR>At the shrieking iron =
and flame=20
  <BR>Hurled through still heavens ? <BR>What quaver--what heart aghast? =

  <BR>Poppies whose roots are in man's veins <BR>Drop, and are ever =
dropping;=20
  <BR>But mine in my ear is safe-- <BR>Just a little white with the =
dust.=20
  <BR><BR><BR>-------------------------------------- <BR><BR>Louse =
Hunting=20
  <BR><BR><BR>Nudes--stark and glistening, <BR>Yelling in lurid glee. =
Grinning=20
  faces <BR>And raging limbs <BR>Whirl over the floor one fire. <BR>For =
a shirt=20
  verminously busy <BR>Yon soldier tore from his throat, with oaths =
<BR>Godhead=20
  might shrink at, but not the lice. <BR>And soon the shirt was aflare =
<BR>Over=20
  the candle he'd lit while we lay. <BR>Then we all sprang up and stript =
<BR>To=20
  hunt the verminous brood. <BR>Soon like a demons' pantomime <BR>The =
place was=20
  raging. <BR>See the silhouettes agape, <BR>See the gibbering shadows =
<BR>Mixed=20
  with the battled arms on the wall. <BR>See gargantuan hooked fingers =
<BR>Pluck=20
  in supreme flesh <BR>To smutch supreme littleness. <BR>See the merry =
limbs in=20
  hot Highland fling <BR>Because some wizard vermin <BR>Charmed from the =
quiet=20
  this revel <BR>When our ears were half lulled <BR>By the dark music =
<BR>Blown=20
  from Sleep's trumpet. =
<BR><BR><BR>--------------------------------------=20
  <BR><BR>Through these pale cold days <BR><BR><BR><BR>1=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Through these pale cold days <BR>2=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What dark faces burn <BR>3 =
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Out=20
  of three thousand years, <BR>4 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And their wild =
eyes=20
  yearn, <BR>5 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;While underneath their brows =
<BR>6=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Like waifs their spirits grope <BR>7=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For the pools of Hebron again-- <BR>8=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For Lebanon's summer slope. <BR>9=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;They leave these blond still days <BR>10=20
  &nbsp;&nbsp;In dust behind their tread <BR>11 &nbsp;&nbsp;They see =
with living=20
  eyes <BR>12 &nbsp;&nbsp;How long they have been dead.=20
  <BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>=1A</FONT> </FONT></BLOCKQUOTE></BODY></HTML>

------=_NextPart_000_000E_01C134C8.0E4040C0--

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