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Ghost-Raddled

By Robert Graves 1895–1985 Robert Graves

“Come, surly fellow, come! A song!

     “What, madmen? Sing to you?

Choose from the clouded tales of wrong

     And terror I bring to you.

Of a night so torn with cries,

     Honest men sleeping

Start awake with glaring eyes,

     Bone chilled, flesh creeping.

Of spirits in the web-hung room

     Up above the stable,

Groans, knocking in the gloom

     The dancing table.

Of demons in the dry well

     That cheep and mutter,

Clanging of an unseen bell,

     Blood, choking the gutter.

Of lust, frightful, past belief,

     Lurking unforgotten,

Unrestrainable, endless grief

     From breasts long rotten.

A song? What laughter or what song

     Can this house remember?

Do flowers and butterflies belong

     To a blind December?”

from The Owl, 1919

Biography

Robert Graves often stirred controversy in his endeavors as a poet, novelist, critic, mythographer, translator, and editor. Stephen Spender in the New York Times Book Review characterized Graves as a free thinker: "All of his life Graves has been indifferent to fashion, and the great and deserved reputation he has is based on his individuality as a poet who is both intensely idiosyncratic and unlike any other contemporary poet . . .

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