Collected poems / Robert Graves
| dc.contributor | Dawson, John Literary and Linguistic Computing Centre University of Cambridge Cambridge |
| dc.contributor.author | Graves, Robert, 1895-1985 |
| dc.coverage.placeName | s.l. |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2022-08-21T15:53:39Z |
| dc.date.available | 2022-08-21T15:53:39Z |
| dc.date.created | 1975 |
| dc.date.issued | 1977-06-27 |
| dc.identifier | ota:0064 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/0064 |
| dc.description.abstract | Archival copy at Cambridge |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 790 KB) |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Legacy Collection |
| dc.rights | Use of this resource is restricted in some manner. Usually this means that it is available for non-commercial use only with prior permission of the depositor and on condition that this header is included in its entirety with any copy distributed. |
| dc.rights.uri | https://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/licence-ota |
| dc.rights.label | ACA |
| dc.subject.lcsh | English poetry -- 20th century |
| dc.subject.other | Poems |
| dc.title | Collected poems / Robert Graves |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 808206 |
| files.count | 1 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1900-1999 |
Files for this item
- Name
- works-0064.txt
- Size
- 789.26 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
*BA1a
*D1916
* Over the Brazier
*X4
*N1
*L1
*Mt
THE POET IN THE NURSERY
*M
*L1
�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 -- �
�An old man's life of beer and whiskey drinking,�
�His years of kidnapping and wicked fighting;�
�And how at last, into a fever sinking,�
�Remorsefully he died, his bedclothes biting.�
�But suddenly I saw the bright green cover�
�Of a thin pretty book right down below;�
�I snatched it up and turned the pages over,�
�To find it full of poetry, and so�
�Put it down my neck with quick hands like a lover�
�And turned to watch if the old man saw it go.�
�The book was full of funny muddling mazes�
�Each rounded off i . . .
