POEMS BY ISAAC ROSENBERG
I lay upon the sparkling grass,
And God's own mouth was kissing me,
And there was nothing that did pass
But blazed with divinity.
Divine—divine—upon my eyes,
Upon mine hair—divine—divine,
The fervour of the golden skies,
The ardent gaze of God on mine.
III
Then spake I to the tree,
"Were ye your own desire
What is it ye would be?"
Answered the tree to me,
"I am my own desire,
I am what I would be.
"If you were your desire
Would you lie under me,
And see me as you see?"
"I am my own desire
While I lie under you,
And that which I would be
Desire will sing to you."
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