Fairies and Fusiliers by Robert Ranke Graves
page 4 of 59 (06%)
page 4 of 59 (06%)
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For newer pictures in this book;
You've read of sunsets rich as mine. _A fresh wind fills the evening air With horrid crying of night birds...._ But what reads new or curious there When cold winds fly across the air? You'll only frown; you'll turn the page, But find no glimpse of your "New Age Of Poetry" in my worn-out words. Must winds that cut like blades of steel And sunsets swimming in Volnay, The holiest, cruellest pains I feel, Die stillborn, because old men squeal For something new: "Write something new: We've read this poem--that one too, And twelve more like 'em yesterday"? No, no! my chicken, I shall scrawl Just what I fancy as I strike it, Fairies and Fusiliers, and all Old broken knock-kneed thought will crawl Across my verse in the classic way. And, sir, be careful what you say; There are old-fashioned folk still like it. |
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