Isaac Rosenberg
Space beats the ruddy freedom of their limbs,
Their naked dances with man’s spirit naked
By the root side of the tree of life
(The under side of things
And shut from earth’s profoundest eyes).
I saw in prophetic gleams
These mighty daughters in their dances
Beckon each soul aghast from its crimson corpse
To mix in their glittering dances :
I heard the mighty daughters’ giant sighs
In sleepless passion for the sons of valour
And envy of the days fo flesh,
Barring their love with mortal boughs across-
The mortal boughs, the mortal tree of life.
The old bark burnt with iron wars
They blow to a live flame
To char the young green clays
And reach the occult soul; they have no softer lure,
No softer lure than the savage ways of death.
We were satisfied of our lords the moon and the sun
To take our wage of sleep and bread and warmth-
These maidens came-these strong everliving Amazons,
And in an easy might their wrists
Of night’s sway and noon’s sway the sceptres brake,
Clouding the wild, the soft lustres of our eyes.
Clouding the wild lustres, the clinging tender lights ;
Driving the darkness into the flame of clay
With the Amazonian wind of them
Over our corroding faces
That must be broken-broken for evermore,
So the soul can leap out
Into their huge embraces,
Though there are human faces
Best sculptures of Deity,
And sinews lusted after
By the Archangels tall,
Even these must leap to the love-heat of these maidens
From the flame of terrene days,
Leaving grey ashes to the wind-to the wind.
One (whose great lifted face,
Where wisdom’s strength and beauty’s strength
And the thewed strength of large beasts
Moved and merged, gloomed and lit)
Was speaking, surely, as the earth-men’s earth fell away ;
Whose new hearing drank the sound
Where pictures, lutes, and mountains mixed
With the loosed spirit of a thought, Essenced to language thus
‘My sisters force their males
From the doomed earth, from the doomed glee
And hankering of hearts.
Frail hands gleam up through the human quagmire, and lips of ash
Seem to wail, as in sad faded paintings
Far-sunken and strange.
My sisters have their males
Clean of the dust of old days
That clings about those white hands
And yearns in those voices sad :
But these shall not see them,
Or think of them in any days or years ;
They are my sisters’ lovers in other days and years.’
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This war poem stands as a vivid, haunting exploration of mortality, the clash between earthly existence and transcendent, almost mythical forces. It begins with a stark image of dance—a primal, almost spiritual movement, evoking a sense of energy that transcends mere human existence. The “ruddy freedom” of the dancers’ limbs contrasts with the quiet, distant nature of the “tree of life,” a symbol of human existence, growth, and decay. The poem’s opening lines set the tone for a reflection on life’s fleeting nature, as the “daughters” in the dance call the souls of the dead, beckoning them away from their mortal coil into something greater, something both alluring and frightening.
The “mighty daughters” seem to represent a force beyond human understanding—perhaps death itself or some otherworldly power that entices and consumes. Their dance, described as a blending of life and death, represents the inescapable pull of fate, a force so powerful that it eclipses earthly concerns. These figures “become” the longing for something beyond mortal life, a desire to transcend the suffering and limitation of human experience. Yet, they are also depicted as violent and destructive, causing the “young green clays” to burn, symbolizing the ruin that comes with this transcendent allure.
The contrast between the “mortal boughs” of the tree of life and the elemental fire of these dancers suggests a tension between life as we know it and the destructive forces that threaten to overwhelm it. The mundane cycle of survival, sleep, and sustenance is challenged by these larger-than-life figures, who, like the forces of war, disrupt the natural order. The imagery of the “Amazonian wind” sweeping over “corroding faces” is striking—suggesting that no matter how much we try to cling to life, time and death are inescapable. The inevitable destruction of the human form is paired with the idea that the soul must leap to a new state, one that may be both terrifying and liberating.
The poem then shifts to a more introspective moment, with one of the dancers—described as a figure of great strength, wisdom, and beauty—speaking directly. This figure reveals a profound longing for a pure existence, untainted by the “dust of old days,” where the emotional messiness of the human condition is absent. These “sisters” seem to represent a form of existence that is cleaner, unburdened by human sorrow or war, and yet there is a sense of distance or loss, as they can never return to the world of men.
In this reflection, the poem touches on themes of memory, desire, and the pull between the human world and something beyond it. The “sisters’ lovers” are from “other days and years,” suggesting an impossibility of return—a severing from the past that mirrors the alienation felt by those caught in war or mortal struggles. This speaker’s words express a desire to transcend, but also the sorrow of knowing that such transcendence is unattainable for those bound to the earth.
Overall, this poem is filled with rich imagery and paradoxes. It juxtaposes the violent destruction of war with a seductive promise of transcendence. The dancers are both figures of beauty and destruction, their allure is tied to the unearthly, and yet they are associated with death—furthering the poem’s meditation on the human condition’s fragility and the pull of forces greater than ourselves. It’s a powerful exploration of how individuals are caught between the mundane and the eternal, and how war, death, and love become entangled in that struggle.