Moses, from whose loins I sprung,
Lit by a lamp in his blood
Ten immutable rules, a moon
For mutable lampless men.

The blonde, the bronze, the ruddy,
With the same heaving blood,
Keep tide to the moon of Moses.
Then why do they sneer at me? 

Added: Apr 8 2005 | Viewed: 1107 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Isaac Rosenberg
Poem: The Jew

Poem of the Day on:
Apr 12 2005
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