Robert Graves was born in 1895 in Wimbledon, a suburb of London. Graves was known as a poet, lecturer and novelist. He was also known as a classicist and a mythographer. Perhaps his first known and revered poems were the poems Groves wrote behind the lines in World War One. He later became known as one of the most superb English language 'Love' poets. He then became recognised as one of the finest love poets writing in the English language.
Members of the poetry, novel writing, historian, and classical scholarly community often feel indebted to the man and his works. Robert Graves was born into an interesting time in history. He actually saw Queen Victoria’s Diamond ... more »
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Robert Graves Poems
Call It a Good Marriage
Call it a good marriage - For no one ever questioned Her warmth, his masculinity, Their interlocking views;
A Child's Nightmare
Through long nursery nights he stood By my bed unwearying, Loomed gigantic, formless, queer, Purring in my haunted ear
A Dead Boche
To you who’d read my songs of War And only hear of blood and fame, I’ll say (you’ve heard it said before) ”War’s Hell!” and if you doubt the same,
I’ve watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow, In the fields between La Bassée and Bethune; Primroses and the first warm day of Spring, Red poppy floods of June,
Down, Wanton, Down!
Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame That at the whisper of Love's name, Or Beauty's, presto! up you raise Your angry head and stand at gaze?
Symptoms of Love
Love is universal migraine, A bright stain on the vision Blotting out reason.
Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune:
An English Wood
This valley wood is pledged To the set shape of things, And reasonably hedged: Here are no harpies fledged,
When I'm Killed
When I’m killed, don’t think of me Buried there in Cambrin Wood, Nor as in Zion think of me With the Intolerable Good.
The child alone a poet is: Spring and Fairyland are his. Truth and Reason show but dim, And all’s poetry with him.
A Pinch of Salt
When a dream is born in you With a sudden clamorous pain, When you know the dream is true And lovely, with no flaw nor stain,
A Boy in Church
“Gabble-gabble,… brethren,… gabble-gabble!” My window frames forest and heather. I hardly hear the tuneful babble, Not knowing nor much caring whether
She Tells Her Love
She tells her love while half asleep, In the dark hours, With half-words whispered low: As Earth stirs in her winter sleep
The Naked and the Nude
For me, the naked and the nude (By lexicographers construed As synonyms that should express The same deficiency of dress
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Anthropologists are a connecting link between poets and scientists; though their field-work among primitive peoples has often made them forget the language of science.''Robert Graves (1895-1985), British poet, novelist. Speech, December 6, 1963, London School of Economics. "Mammon," Mammon and the Black Goddess (1965)...
''What we now call "finance" is, I hold, an intellectual perversion of what began as warm human love.''Robert Graves (1895-1985), British poet, novelist. speech, Dec. 6, 1963, London School of Economics. "Mammon," Mammon and the Black Goddess (1965).
''If there's no money in poetry, neither is there poetry in money.''Robert Graves (1895-1985), British poet, novelist. speech, Dec. 6, 1963, London School of Economics. "Mammon," Mammon and the Black Goddess (1965).
''The award of a pure gold medal for poetry would flatter the recipient unduly: no poem ever attains such carat purity.''Robert Graves (1895-1985), British poet, novelist. Address, January 1960, to the Oxford University Philological Society. "Poetic Gold," Oxford Address...
''The remarkable thing about Shakespeare is that he is really very goodin spite of all the people who say he is very good.''Robert Graves (1895-1985), British poet, novelist. quoted in Observer (London, Dec. 6, 1964).
Comments about Robert Graves
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Call It a Good Marriage
Call it a good marriage -
For no one ever questioned
Her warmth, his masculinity,
Their interlocking views;
Except one stray graphologist
Who frowned in speculation
At her h's and her s's,
His p's and w's.
Though few would still subscribe
To the monogamic axiom
That strife below the hip-bones
Need not estrange the heart,
Call it a good marriage:
More drew those two together,
Despite a lack of children,
Than pulled them apart.
Call it a good marriage:
They never fought in public,
They acted circumspectly
And faced the world ...