ROBERT GRAVESCYNICS AND ROMANTICSIn cluband messroom let them sitAt skirmish of ingenious wit;Deriding Love, yet not with heartsAccorded to those healthier partsOf grim self-mockery, but with meanAnd burrowing search for things unclean,Pretended deafness, twisted sense,Sharp innuendoes rising thence,And affectation of prude-shameThat shrinks from using the short name.We are not envious of their sourDisintegrations of Love’s power,Their swift analysis of the stabsDevised by virgins and by drabs(Powder or lace or scent) to exciteA none-too-jaded appetite.They never guess of Love as weHave found the amazing Art to be,Pursuit of dazzling flame, or flightFrom web-hung blackness of night,With laughter only to expressCare overborne by carelessness;They never bridge from small to great,From nod or glance to ideal Fate,From clouded forehead or slow sighTo doubt and agony looming by,From shining gaze and hair flung freeTo infinity and to eternity—They sneer and poke a treacherous jokeWith scorn for our rusticity.UNICORN AND THE WHITE DOE‘AloneThrough forests evergreen,By legend known,By no eye seen,UnmatedUnbaitedUntrembling betweenThe shifting shadowsThe sudden echoes,Deathless I goUnheard, unseen,’Says the White Doe.Unicorn with bursting heartBreath of love has drawnOn his desolate crags apartAt rumour of dawn,Has volleyed forth his prideTwenty thousand years mute,Tossed his horn from side to sideLunged with his foot.‘Like a storm of sand I runBreaking the desert’s boundaries,I go in hiding from the sunIn thick shade of treesStraight was the track I tookAcross the plains, but here with briarAnd mire the tangled alleys crookBaulking my desire.Ho, there! what glinted white?(A bough still shakes)What was it darted from my sightThrough the forest brakes?Where are you fled from me?I pursue, you fade;I run, you hide from meIn the dark glade.Towering straight the trees grow,The grass grows thick.Where you are, I do not know,You fly so quick.’‘Seek me not hereLodged among mortal deer,’Says the White Doe,‘Keeping one placeHeld by the ties of space,’Says the White Doe.‘IEquallyIn airAbove your bareHill crest, your basalt lair,Mirage reflected drinkAt the clear pool’s brinkWith tigers at playIn the glare of dayBlithely I stray,Under shadow of myrtleWith Phoenix and his TurtleFor all time true,With Gryphons at grassUnder the Upas,Sipping warm dewThat falls hourly new,I, unattainableComplete, incomprehensibleNo mate for you.In sun’s beamOr star-gleam,No mate for youNo mate for you,’Says the White Doe.SULLEN MOODSLove, do not count your labour lostThough I turn sullen, grim, retiredEven at your side; my thought is crossedWith fancies by old longings fired.And when I answer you, some daysVaguely and wildly, do not fearThat my love goes forbidden waysHating the laws that bind it here.If I speak gruffly, this mood isMere indignation at my ownShortcomings, plagues, uncertainties;I forget the gentler tone.‘You,’ now that you have come to beMy one beginning, prime and end,I count at last as wholly ‘me,’Lover no longer nor yet friend.Friendship is flattery, though close hid;Must I then flatter my own mind?And must (which laws of shame forbid)Blind love of you make self-love blind?Do not repay me my own coin,The sharp rebuke, the frown, the groan;But stir my memory to disjoinYour emanation from my own.Help me to see you as beforeWhen overwhelmed and dead, almost,I stumbled on that secret doorWhich saves the live man from the ghost.Be once again the distant light,Promise of glory, not yet knownIn full perfection—wasted quiteWhen on my imperfection thrown.HENRY AND MARYHenrywas a worthy king,Mary was his queen,He gave to her a snowdropUpon a stalk of green.Then all for his kindnessAnd all for his careShe gave him a new-laid eggIn the garden there.Love, can you sing?I cannot sing.Or story-tell?Not one I know.Then let us play at queen and king,As down the garden walks we go.ON THE RIDGEBelowthe ridge a raven flew,And we heard the lost curlewMourning out of sight belowMountain tops were touched with snow;Even the long dividing plainShowed no wealth of sheep or grain,But fields of boulders lay like cornAnd raven’s croak was shepherd’s hornTo slow cloud shadow strayed acrossA pasture of thin heath and moss.The North Wind rose; I saw him pressWith lusty force against your dress,Moulding your body’s inward grace,And streaming off from your set face,So now no longer flesh and bloodBut poised in marble thought you stood;O wingless Victory, loved of men,Who could withstand your triumph then?A LOVER SINCE CHILDHOODTangledin 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 doDazed by the thought of you,Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,My heart pierced through and throughBy this despair of you,Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew.Give then a thought for meWalking so miserably,Wanting relief in the friendship or flower or tree,Do but remember, weOnce could in love agreeSwallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.
ROBERT GRAVES
In cluband messroom let them sitAt skirmish of ingenious wit;Deriding Love, yet not with heartsAccorded to those healthier partsOf grim self-mockery, but with meanAnd burrowing search for things unclean,Pretended deafness, twisted sense,Sharp innuendoes rising thence,And affectation of prude-shameThat shrinks from using the short name.We are not envious of their sourDisintegrations of Love’s power,Their swift analysis of the stabsDevised by virgins and by drabs(Powder or lace or scent) to exciteA none-too-jaded appetite.They never guess of Love as weHave found the amazing Art to be,Pursuit of dazzling flame, or flightFrom web-hung blackness of night,With laughter only to expressCare overborne by carelessness;They never bridge from small to great,From nod or glance to ideal Fate,From clouded forehead or slow sighTo doubt and agony looming by,From shining gaze and hair flung freeTo infinity and to eternity—They sneer and poke a treacherous jokeWith scorn for our rusticity.
In cluband messroom let them sitAt skirmish of ingenious wit;Deriding Love, yet not with heartsAccorded to those healthier partsOf grim self-mockery, but with meanAnd burrowing search for things unclean,Pretended deafness, twisted sense,Sharp innuendoes rising thence,And affectation of prude-shameThat shrinks from using the short name.We are not envious of their sourDisintegrations of Love’s power,Their swift analysis of the stabsDevised by virgins and by drabs(Powder or lace or scent) to exciteA none-too-jaded appetite.They never guess of Love as weHave found the amazing Art to be,Pursuit of dazzling flame, or flightFrom web-hung blackness of night,With laughter only to expressCare overborne by carelessness;They never bridge from small to great,From nod or glance to ideal Fate,From clouded forehead or slow sighTo doubt and agony looming by,From shining gaze and hair flung freeTo infinity and to eternity—They sneer and poke a treacherous jokeWith scorn for our rusticity.
In cluband messroom let them sitAt skirmish of ingenious wit;Deriding Love, yet not with heartsAccorded to those healthier partsOf grim self-mockery, but with meanAnd burrowing search for things unclean,Pretended deafness, twisted sense,Sharp innuendoes rising thence,And affectation of prude-shameThat shrinks from using the short name.We are not envious of their sourDisintegrations of Love’s power,Their swift analysis of the stabsDevised by virgins and by drabs(Powder or lace or scent) to exciteA none-too-jaded appetite.They never guess of Love as weHave found the amazing Art to be,Pursuit of dazzling flame, or flightFrom web-hung blackness of night,With laughter only to expressCare overborne by carelessness;They never bridge from small to great,From nod or glance to ideal Fate,From clouded forehead or slow sighTo doubt and agony looming by,From shining gaze and hair flung freeTo infinity and to eternity—They sneer and poke a treacherous jokeWith scorn for our rusticity.
‘AloneThrough forests evergreen,By legend known,By no eye seen,UnmatedUnbaitedUntrembling betweenThe shifting shadowsThe sudden echoes,Deathless I goUnheard, unseen,’Says the White Doe.Unicorn with bursting heartBreath of love has drawnOn his desolate crags apartAt rumour of dawn,Has volleyed forth his prideTwenty thousand years mute,Tossed his horn from side to sideLunged with his foot.‘Like a storm of sand I runBreaking the desert’s boundaries,I go in hiding from the sunIn thick shade of treesStraight was the track I tookAcross the plains, but here with briarAnd mire the tangled alleys crookBaulking my desire.Ho, there! what glinted white?(A bough still shakes)What was it darted from my sightThrough the forest brakes?Where are you fled from me?I pursue, you fade;I run, you hide from meIn the dark glade.Towering straight the trees grow,The grass grows thick.Where you are, I do not know,You fly so quick.’‘Seek me not hereLodged among mortal deer,’Says the White Doe,‘Keeping one placeHeld by the ties of space,’Says the White Doe.‘IEquallyIn airAbove your bareHill crest, your basalt lair,Mirage reflected drinkAt the clear pool’s brinkWith tigers at playIn the glare of dayBlithely I stray,Under shadow of myrtleWith Phoenix and his TurtleFor all time true,With Gryphons at grassUnder the Upas,Sipping warm dewThat falls hourly new,I, unattainableComplete, incomprehensibleNo mate for you.In sun’s beamOr star-gleam,No mate for youNo mate for you,’Says the White Doe.
‘AloneThrough forests evergreen,By legend known,By no eye seen,UnmatedUnbaitedUntrembling betweenThe shifting shadowsThe sudden echoes,Deathless I goUnheard, unseen,’Says the White Doe.Unicorn with bursting heartBreath of love has drawnOn his desolate crags apartAt rumour of dawn,Has volleyed forth his prideTwenty thousand years mute,Tossed his horn from side to sideLunged with his foot.‘Like a storm of sand I runBreaking the desert’s boundaries,I go in hiding from the sunIn thick shade of treesStraight was the track I tookAcross the plains, but here with briarAnd mire the tangled alleys crookBaulking my desire.Ho, there! what glinted white?(A bough still shakes)What was it darted from my sightThrough the forest brakes?Where are you fled from me?I pursue, you fade;I run, you hide from meIn the dark glade.Towering straight the trees grow,The grass grows thick.Where you are, I do not know,You fly so quick.’‘Seek me not hereLodged among mortal deer,’Says the White Doe,‘Keeping one placeHeld by the ties of space,’Says the White Doe.‘IEquallyIn airAbove your bareHill crest, your basalt lair,Mirage reflected drinkAt the clear pool’s brinkWith tigers at playIn the glare of dayBlithely I stray,Under shadow of myrtleWith Phoenix and his TurtleFor all time true,With Gryphons at grassUnder the Upas,Sipping warm dewThat falls hourly new,I, unattainableComplete, incomprehensibleNo mate for you.In sun’s beamOr star-gleam,No mate for youNo mate for you,’Says the White Doe.
‘AloneThrough forests evergreen,By legend known,By no eye seen,UnmatedUnbaitedUntrembling betweenThe shifting shadowsThe sudden echoes,Deathless I goUnheard, unseen,’Says the White Doe.
Unicorn with bursting heartBreath of love has drawnOn his desolate crags apartAt rumour of dawn,
Has volleyed forth his prideTwenty thousand years mute,Tossed his horn from side to sideLunged with his foot.
‘Like a storm of sand I runBreaking the desert’s boundaries,I go in hiding from the sunIn thick shade of trees
Straight was the track I tookAcross the plains, but here with briarAnd mire the tangled alleys crookBaulking my desire.
Ho, there! what glinted white?(A bough still shakes)What was it darted from my sightThrough the forest brakes?
Where are you fled from me?I pursue, you fade;I run, you hide from meIn the dark glade.
Towering straight the trees grow,The grass grows thick.Where you are, I do not know,You fly so quick.’
‘Seek me not hereLodged among mortal deer,’Says the White Doe,‘Keeping one placeHeld by the ties of space,’Says the White Doe.‘IEquallyIn airAbove your bareHill crest, your basalt lair,Mirage reflected drinkAt the clear pool’s brinkWith tigers at playIn the glare of dayBlithely I stray,Under shadow of myrtleWith Phoenix and his TurtleFor all time true,With Gryphons at grassUnder the Upas,Sipping warm dewThat falls hourly new,I, unattainableComplete, incomprehensibleNo mate for you.In sun’s beamOr star-gleam,No mate for youNo mate for you,’Says the White Doe.
Love, do not count your labour lostThough I turn sullen, grim, retiredEven at your side; my thought is crossedWith fancies by old longings fired.And when I answer you, some daysVaguely and wildly, do not fearThat my love goes forbidden waysHating the laws that bind it here.If I speak gruffly, this mood isMere indignation at my ownShortcomings, plagues, uncertainties;I forget the gentler tone.‘You,’ now that you have come to beMy one beginning, prime and end,I count at last as wholly ‘me,’Lover no longer nor yet friend.Friendship is flattery, though close hid;Must I then flatter my own mind?And must (which laws of shame forbid)Blind love of you make self-love blind?Do not repay me my own coin,The sharp rebuke, the frown, the groan;But stir my memory to disjoinYour emanation from my own.Help me to see you as beforeWhen overwhelmed and dead, almost,I stumbled on that secret doorWhich saves the live man from the ghost.Be once again the distant light,Promise of glory, not yet knownIn full perfection—wasted quiteWhen on my imperfection thrown.
Love, do not count your labour lostThough I turn sullen, grim, retiredEven at your side; my thought is crossedWith fancies by old longings fired.And when I answer you, some daysVaguely and wildly, do not fearThat my love goes forbidden waysHating the laws that bind it here.If I speak gruffly, this mood isMere indignation at my ownShortcomings, plagues, uncertainties;I forget the gentler tone.‘You,’ now that you have come to beMy one beginning, prime and end,I count at last as wholly ‘me,’Lover no longer nor yet friend.Friendship is flattery, though close hid;Must I then flatter my own mind?And must (which laws of shame forbid)Blind love of you make self-love blind?Do not repay me my own coin,The sharp rebuke, the frown, the groan;But stir my memory to disjoinYour emanation from my own.Help me to see you as beforeWhen overwhelmed and dead, almost,I stumbled on that secret doorWhich saves the live man from the ghost.Be once again the distant light,Promise of glory, not yet knownIn full perfection—wasted quiteWhen on my imperfection thrown.
Love, do not count your labour lostThough I turn sullen, grim, retiredEven at your side; my thought is crossedWith fancies by old longings fired.
And when I answer you, some daysVaguely and wildly, do not fearThat my love goes forbidden waysHating the laws that bind it here.
If I speak gruffly, this mood isMere indignation at my ownShortcomings, plagues, uncertainties;I forget the gentler tone.
‘You,’ now that you have come to beMy one beginning, prime and end,I count at last as wholly ‘me,’Lover no longer nor yet friend.
Friendship is flattery, though close hid;Must I then flatter my own mind?And must (which laws of shame forbid)Blind love of you make self-love blind?
Do not repay me my own coin,The sharp rebuke, the frown, the groan;But stir my memory to disjoinYour emanation from my own.
Help me to see you as beforeWhen overwhelmed and dead, almost,I stumbled on that secret doorWhich saves the live man from the ghost.
Be once again the distant light,Promise of glory, not yet knownIn full perfection—wasted quiteWhen on my imperfection thrown.
Henrywas a worthy king,Mary was his queen,He gave to her a snowdropUpon a stalk of green.Then all for his kindnessAnd all for his careShe gave him a new-laid eggIn the garden there.Love, can you sing?I cannot sing.Or story-tell?Not one I know.Then let us play at queen and king,As down the garden walks we go.
Henrywas a worthy king,Mary was his queen,He gave to her a snowdropUpon a stalk of green.Then all for his kindnessAnd all for his careShe gave him a new-laid eggIn the garden there.Love, can you sing?I cannot sing.Or story-tell?Not one I know.Then let us play at queen and king,As down the garden walks we go.
Henrywas a worthy king,Mary was his queen,He gave to her a snowdropUpon a stalk of green.
Then all for his kindnessAnd all for his careShe gave him a new-laid eggIn the garden there.
Love, can you sing?I cannot sing.Or story-tell?Not one I know.Then let us play at queen and king,As down the garden walks we go.
Belowthe ridge a raven flew,And we heard the lost curlewMourning out of sight belowMountain tops were touched with snow;Even the long dividing plainShowed no wealth of sheep or grain,But fields of boulders lay like cornAnd raven’s croak was shepherd’s hornTo slow cloud shadow strayed acrossA pasture of thin heath and moss.The North Wind rose; I saw him pressWith lusty force against your dress,Moulding your body’s inward grace,And streaming off from your set face,So now no longer flesh and bloodBut poised in marble thought you stood;O wingless Victory, loved of men,Who could withstand your triumph then?
Belowthe ridge a raven flew,And we heard the lost curlewMourning out of sight belowMountain tops were touched with snow;Even the long dividing plainShowed no wealth of sheep or grain,But fields of boulders lay like cornAnd raven’s croak was shepherd’s hornTo slow cloud shadow strayed acrossA pasture of thin heath and moss.The North Wind rose; I saw him pressWith lusty force against your dress,Moulding your body’s inward grace,And streaming off from your set face,So now no longer flesh and bloodBut poised in marble thought you stood;O wingless Victory, loved of men,Who could withstand your triumph then?
Belowthe ridge a raven flew,And we heard the lost curlewMourning out of sight belowMountain tops were touched with snow;Even the long dividing plainShowed no wealth of sheep or grain,But fields of boulders lay like cornAnd raven’s croak was shepherd’s hornTo slow cloud shadow strayed acrossA pasture of thin heath and moss.The North Wind rose; I saw him pressWith lusty force against your dress,Moulding your body’s inward grace,And streaming off from your set face,So now no longer flesh and bloodBut poised in marble thought you stood;O wingless Victory, loved of men,Who could withstand your triumph then?
Tangledin 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 doDazed by the thought of you,Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,My heart pierced through and throughBy this despair of you,Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew.Give then a thought for meWalking so miserably,Wanting relief in the friendship or flower or tree,Do but remember, weOnce could in love agreeSwallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.
Tangledin 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 doDazed by the thought of you,Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,My heart pierced through and throughBy this despair of you,Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew.Give then a thought for meWalking so miserably,Wanting relief in the friendship or flower or tree,Do but remember, weOnce could in love agreeSwallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.
Tangledin 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 doDazed by the thought of you,Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,My heart pierced through and throughBy this despair of you,Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew.
Give then a thought for meWalking so miserably,Wanting relief in the friendship or flower or tree,Do but remember, weOnce could in love agreeSwallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.