I Isaac Rosenberg

Isaac Rosenberg

63 şiir · 1890 — 1918 · Bristol

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Isaac Rosenberg was an English poet of the First World War who was considered to be one of the greatest of all English war poets. His "Poems from the Trenches" are recognised as some of the most outstanding written during the First World War. Isaac Rosenberg was born to Barnet and Annie Rosenberg, who had fled Devinsk in Lithuania to escape anti-Jewish pogroms. In 1897, the family moved to 47 Cable Street in a poor district of the East End of London, and one with a strong Jewish community. He attended St. Paul's School around the corner in Wellclose Square, until his family (of Russian descent) moved to Stepney in 1900, so he could experience Jewish schooling. He left school at the age of fourteen and became an apprentice engraver.He was interested in both poetry and visual art, and managed to find the finances to attend the Slade School. During his time at Slade School, Rosenberg notably studied alongside David Bomberg, Mark Gertler, Stanley Spencer, Paul Nash, Edward Wadsworth and Dora Carrington. He was taken up by Laurence Binyon and Edward Marsh, and began to write poetry seriously, but he suffered from ill-health. Afraid that his chronic bronchitis would worsen, Rosenberg hoped to try and cure himself by emigrating to the warmer climate of South Africa, where his sister Mina lived. He wrote the poem On Receiving News of the War in Cape Town, South Africa. While others wrote about war as patriotic sacrifice, Rosenberg was critical of the war from its onset. However, needing employment in order to help support his mother, Rosenberg returned to England in October 1915 and enlisted in the army. He was assigned to the 12th Suffolk Folk Regiment, a 'bantam' battalion (men under 5'3"). After turning down an offer to become a lance corporal, Private Rosenberg was later transferred to the 11th Battalion, The King's Own Royal Lancaster Regiment (KORL). He was sent to the Somme on the Western Front in France where, having just finished night patrol, he was killed at dawn on April 1, 1918; there is a dispute as to whether his death occurred at the hands of a sniper or in close combat. In either case, Fampoux is the name of the town where he died. He was first buried in a mass grave, but in 1926, his remains were identified and reinterred, not in England, but at Bailleul Road East Cemetery, Plot V, St. Laurent-Blangy, Pas de Calais, France. In The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussell's landmark study of the literature of the First World War, Fussell identifies Rosenberg's Break of Day in the Trenches as "the greatest poem of the war.")

Isaac Rosenberg şiirleri

Arama yardımı

God's mercy shines ; And our full hearts must make record of this, For grief that burst from out its dark confines Into strange sunlit bliss.…

A little breath can make a prayer, A little wind can take it And turn it back again to air: Then say, why should you make it ?…

Dim apprehension of a trust Comes over me this quiet hour, As though the silence were a flower, And this, its perfume, dark like dust.…

İngilizce

Ah, Koelue! Had you embalmed your beauty, so It could not backward go, Or change in any way,…

İngilizce

You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid- Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid :…

İngilizce

What if you shut your eyes and look, Yea, look with all the spirit's eyes, While mystic unrevealed skies Unfold like pages of a book…

İngilizce

Crazed shadows, from no golden body That I can see, embrace me warm ; All is purple and closed Round by night's arm.…

İngilizce

What in our lives is burnt In the fire of this? The heart’s dear granary? The much we shall miss?…

İngilizce

As a sword in the sun A glory calling a glory Our eyes, seeing it run, Capture its gleam for our story.…

The darkness crumbles away It is the same old druid Time as ever, Only a live thing leaps my hand, A queer sardonic rat,…

İngilizce

Caught still as Absalom, Surely the air hangs From the swayless cloud-boughs Like hair of Absalom…

İngilizce

As the pregnant womb of night Thrills with imprisoned light, Misty, nebulous-born, Growing deeper into her morn,…

Space beats the ruddy freedom of their limbs, Their naked dances with man's spirit naked By the root side of the tree of life (The under side of things…

İngilizce

O tender first cold flush of rose, O budded dawn, wake dreamily ; Your dim lips as your lids unclose Murmur your own sad threnody.…

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