In Piccadi
Lamp-lit faces, to you
What is your starry dew ?
Gold flowers of the night blue !
Deep in wet pavement's slime
Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,
To bloom in lust's coloured clime.
The sheen of eyes that lust,
Which dew-time made your trust,
Lights your passionless dust.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
Added by Poetry Lover
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