Robert Graves

(1895 - 1985 / London / England)

Robert Graves Poems

121. Love Without Hope 1/3/2003
122. A Slice Of Wedding Cake 4/1/2010
123. In Broken Images 1/3/2003
124. An Old Twenty-Third Man 1/3/2003
125. When I'M Killed 1/3/2003
126. The Naked And The Nude 1/3/2003
127. A Pinch Of Salt 1/3/2003
128. A Boy In Church 1/3/2003
129. Symptoms Of Love 1/3/2003
130. She Tells Her Love 1/3/2003
131. I'D Love To Be A Fairy's Child 1/3/2003
132. An English Wood 1/3/2003
133. Babylon 1/3/2003
134. Down, Wanton, Down! 1/3/2003
135. A Frosty Night 4/1/2010
136. Careers 1/3/2003
137. Cherry-Time 1/3/2003
138. 1915 1/3/2003
139. A Child's Nightmare 1/3/2003
140. A Dead Boche 1/3/2003
141. Call It A Good Marriage 1/3/2003

Comments about Robert Graves

  • anonomus (2/6/2018 3:14:00 PM)

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    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • anonomus (2/6/2018 3:04:00 PM)

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  • peter gisla (1/24/2018 1:22:00 PM)

    I am trying to locate a poem by Robert Graves entitled Real Women.....in search of meaning in a complex society. Please respond if you would to petergisla333@yahoo.com Thank You....Peter

  • Kuldeep Kumar Singh (12/2/2017 8:05:00 PM)

    Chander pur bawliya.

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

The Poet In The Nursery

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 things and never there.

And as I groped, the whole time I was thinking
About the tragic poem I’d been writing,...

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