The Immortals

Isaac Rosenberg (1890–1918)

Poems by Isaac Rosenberg, 1917

I killed them, but they would not die.Yea, all the day and all the nightFor them I could not rest nor sleep,Nor guard from them nor hide in flight!

Then in my agony I turnedAnd made my hands red in their gore.In vain—for faster than I slewThey rose more cruel than before.

I killed and killed with slaughter mad;I killed till all my strength was gone;And still they rose to torture me,For Devils only die for fun.

I used to think the Devil hidIn women's smiles and wine's carouse;I called him Satan, Balzebub;But now I call him dirty louse.