Robert Graves

(1895 - 1985 / London / England)

Robert Graves Poems

1. A Valentine 5/9/2015
2. She Tells Her Love 11/21/2014
3. The Kiss 3/30/2015
4. The Three Drinkers 4/1/2010
5. The Patchwork Bonnet 4/1/2010
6. The Promised Lullaby 4/1/2010
7. Morning Phœnix 4/1/2010
8. Nine O'Clock 4/1/2010
9. The God Called Poetry 4/1/2010
10. The Boy In Church 4/1/2010
11. The Boy Out Of Church 4/1/2010
12. The Picture Book 4/1/2010
13. Jane 4/1/2010
14. Retrospect: The Jests Of The Clock 4/1/2010
15. The Cupboard 4/1/2010
16. The General Elliott 4/1/2010
17. Hawk And Buckle 4/1/2010
18. Manticor In Arabia 4/1/2010
19. Dicky 4/1/2010
20. Fox's Dingle 4/1/2010
21. The Voice Of Beauty Drowned 4/1/2010
22. Loving Henry 4/1/2010
23. Nebuchadnezzar's Fall 4/1/2010
24. Neglectful Edward 4/1/2010
25. Give Us Rain 4/1/2010
26. Ghost Raddled 4/1/2010
27. The Pier-Glass 4/1/2010
28. The Patchwork Quilt 4/1/2010
29. Song: One Hard Look 4/1/2010
30. Outlaws 4/1/2010
31. Sullen Moods 4/1/2010
32. Sospan Fach 4/1/2010
33. Haunted 4/1/2010
34. Here They Lie 4/1/2010
35. Star-Talk 4/1/2010
36. Rocky Acres 4/1/2010
37. The Lost Love 4/1/2010
38. It's A Queer Time 4/1/2010
39. The 4/1/2010
40. The Beacon 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Robert Graves

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 ...

Read the full of Call It A Good Marriage

A Valentine

The hunter to the husbandman
Pays tribute since our love began,
And to love-loyalty dedicates
The phantom kills he meditates.
Let me embrace, embracing you,
Beauty of other shape and hue,
Odd glinting graces of which none
Shone more than candle to your sun;
Your well-kissed hand was beckoning me

[Hata Bildir]