Robert Graves

Robert Graves

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Robert von Ranke Graves (24 July 1895 – 7 December 1985) was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist. His father was Alfred Perceval Graves, a celebrated Irish poet and figure in the Gaelic revival; they were both Celticists and students of Irish mythology.
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Faun

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Here down this very way, Here only yesterday King Faun went leaping
He sang, with careless shout Hurling his name about; He sang, with oaken stock His steps from rock to rock In safety keeping, “Here Faun is free, Here Faun is free
” Tod...
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I Wonder What It Feels Like To Be Drowned

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Look at my knees, That island rising from the steamy seas
The candles a tall lightship; my two hands Are boats and barges anchored to the sands, With mighty cliffs all round;
They’re full of wine and riches from far lands…
I wonder ...
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The Cottage

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Here in turn succeed and rule Carter, smith, and village fool, Then again the place is known As tavern, shop, and Sunday-school; Now somehow it’s come to me To light the fire and hold the key, Here in Heaven to reign alone
All the walls are w...
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To Robert Nichols

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(From Frise on the Somme in February, 1917, in answer to a letter saying: “I am just finishing my ‘Faun’s Holiday
’ I wish you were here to feed him with cherries
~~~~~”Here by a snowbound river In scrapen holes we shiver, And like old b...
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Cherry-Time

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Cherries of the night are
Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry, Take a cherry; Mine are sounder, Mine are rounder, Mine are sweeter For the eater Under the moon
And you’ll...
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Counting The Beats

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You, love, and I,(He whispers) you and I,
And if no more than only you and
What care you or I
Counting the beats,
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The Shivering Beggar

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AR Clapham village, where fields began, Saint Edward met a beggar man
It was Christmas morning, the church bells tolled, The old man trembled for the fierce cold
Saint Edward cried, “It is monstrous sinA beggar to lie in rags so thin
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Smoke-Rings

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OY Most venerable and learned sir, Tall and true Philosopher, These rings of smoke you blow all day With such deep thought, what sense have they
ER Small friend, with prayer and meditation I make an image of Creation
And if your mind is ...
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The Beach

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Louder than gulls the little children scream Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes— Heroes of the nursery
The horny boatman, who has seen whal...
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Sorley’s Weather

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When outside the icy rain Comes leaping helter-skelter, Shall I tie my restive brain Snugly under shelter
Shall I make a gentle song Here in my firelit study, When outside the winds blow strong And the lanes are muddy
With old wine and d...
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Symptoms Of Love

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Love is universal migraine,
A bright stain on the
Blotting out reason
Symptoms of true
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Corporal Stare

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Back from the line one night in June, I gave a dinner at Bethune— Seven courses, the most gorgeous meal Money could buy or batman steal
Five hungry lads welcomed the
With shouts that nearly cracked the dish; Asparagus came with tender to...
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Hate Not - Fear Not

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Kill if you must, but never hate:
Man is but grass and hate is blight,
The sun will scorch you soon or late,
Die wholesome then, since you must fight
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The Poet In The Nursery

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The youngest poet down the shelves was fumbling In a dim library, just behind the chair From which the ancient poet was mum-mumbling A song about some Lovers at a Fair, Pulling his long white beard and gently grumbling That rhymes were beastly thi...
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The Naked And The Nude

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For me, the naked and the nude (By lexicographers
As synonyms that should
The same deficiency of
Or shelter) stand as wide
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Id Love To Be A Fairys Child

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Children born of fairy
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their hearts desire:
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