Who is Robert Graves

Robert von Ranke Graves (24 July 1895 – 7 December 1985), known as Robert Graves, was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist. His father was Alfred Perceval Graves, a celebrated Irish poet and figure in the Gaelic revival; they were both Celticists and students of Irish mythology. Graves produced more than 140 works. Graves's poems—together with his translations and innovative analysis and interpretations of the Greek myths; his memoir of his early life, including his role in World War I, Good-Bye to All That; and his speculative study of poetic inspiration, The White Goddess—have never been out of print.

He earned his living from writing, particularly popular historical novels such as I, Claudius, King Jesus, The Golden Fleece and Count ...
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Robert Graves Poems

  • Morning PhÅ?nix
    In my body lives a flame,
    Flame that burns me all the day;
    When a fierce sun does the same,
    I am charred away. ...
  • The Boy In Church
    'Gabble-gabble . . . brethren . . . gabble-gabble!'
    My window glimpses larch and heather.
    I hardly hear the tuneful babble,
    Not knowing nor much caring whether ...
  • In Broken Images
    He is quick, thinking in clear images;
    I am slow, thinking in broken images.

    He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images; ...
  • The Travellers' Curse After Misdirection
    (from the Welsh)

    May they stumble, stage by stage
    On an endless Pilgrimage ...
  • The Snapped Thread
    Desire, first, by a natural miracle
    United bodies, united hearts, blazed beauty;
    Transcended bodies, transcended hearts.
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Top 10 most used topics by Robert Graves

I Love You 44 Love 44 Time 38 Heart 36 Away 33 Never 30 Night 28 God 28 Red 27 Long 27

Robert Graves Quotes

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Comments about Robert Graves

  • 247grind: larry bird, dennis jonhson, and robert parrish rolling over in their graves seeing that jumpman emblem on those celtics uniforms.
  • War_poets: 28 may 1915 robert graves has a near miss ‘this morning about breakfast time, just as i came out of my dug-out, a rifle-grenade landed within six feet of me. for some reason, instead of falling on its head and exploding, it landed with its stick in the wet clay'
  • War_poets: 27 may 1916 robert graves writes to siegfried sassoon ‘litherland again (not that i’ve ever been here before but i’ve heard such a lot about it) and bored with it already...the subalterns are all at present terrified of my three stars and are ridiculously respectful'
  • Ighaworth: robert “beto” o’rourke — a privileged brat who is desperate for power whose single greatest achievement is successfully marketing himself as hispanic — views even the worst tragedies through a single lens: how can i make this work for me?
  • Lalitamathias: with considerable justice, repeat claudius’s famous words to the roman senate, as recounted by robert graves: “as for being half-witted: well, what can i say, except that i have survived with half my wits, while thousands have died with theirs intact...3
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Poem of the day

James Joyce Poem
Now, O Now In This Brown Land
 by James Joyce

Now, O now, in this brown land
Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
Forbearing for old friendship' sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress

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