Here you will find the Poem Marching (As Seen From the Left File) of poet Isaac Rosenberg
My eyes catch ruddy necks Sturdily pressed back - All a red brick moving glint. Like flaming pendulums, hands Swing across the khaki - Mustard-coloured khaki - To the automatic feet. We husband the ancient glory In these bared necks and hands. Not broke is the forge of Mars; But a subtler brain beats iron To shoe the hoofs of death, (Who paws dynamic air now). Blind fingers loose an iron cloud To rain immortal darkness On strong eyes.
