“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 in England on July 24, 1895 Graves was a poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist who published nearly 60 volumes of poetry and dozens of other writings in all genres. Among his 120-plus total volumes was a world-renowned novel I, Claudius, and a historical memoir on WWII, Goodbye To All That.
Graves’s sad love poems have been lauded by critics and fellow writers 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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