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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Isaac Rosenberg

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Marching

Isaac Rosenberg

From “Trench Poems”

MY eyes catch ruddy necks

Sturdily pressed back.

All a red-brick moving glint,

Like flaming pendulums, hands

Swing across the khaki—

Mustard colored khaki—

To the automatic feet.

We husband the ancient glory

In these bared necks and hands.

Not broke is the forge of Mars;

But a subtler brain beats iron

To shoe the hoofs of death.

Who paws dynamic air now?—

Blind fingers loose an iron cloud

To rain immortal darkness

On strong eyes.