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Saturday, July 27, 2019

Celebrating 'A Writer Extraordinaire'

“Never use the word 'audience.' The very idea of a public, unless the poet is writing for money, seems wrong to me. Poets don't have an 'audience'. They're talking to a single person all the time.” – Robert Graves

Born July 24, 1895, Graves was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist who published nearly 60 volumes of poetry along with dozens of other writings in all genres.  Among his 120-plus total volumes was the world-renowned novel I, Claudius, and his historical memoir on WWII, Goodbye To All That.          Graves’s sad love poems are regarded as among the finest produced in the English language during the 20th century.  For Saturday’s Poem, here is Graves’,

A Lover Since Childhood

Tangled in thought am I,
Stumble in speech do I?
Do I blunder and blush for the reason why?
Wander aloof do I,
Lean over gates and sigh,
Making friends with the bee and the butterfly?

    If thus and thus I do,
    Dazed by the thought of you,
    Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,
    My heart cut through and through
    In this despair of you,
    Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew:

    give then a thought for me
    Walking so miserably,
    Wanting relief in the friendship of flower or tree;
    Do but remember, we
    Once could in love agree,
    Swallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.

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