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

Then in my agony I turned 
And made my hands red in their gore. 
In vain - for faster than I slew 
They 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 in fun. 

I used to think the Devil hid 
In women’s smiles and wine’s carouse. 
I called him Satan, Balzebub. 
But now I call him, dirty louse. 

Added: Apr 8 2005 | Viewed: 1183 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Isaac Rosenberg
Poem: The Immortals

Poem of the Day on:
Apr 24 2007
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, The Immortals, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Isaac Rosenberg with others on the Poetry Connection poetry forum!