The Spoilsport

By Robert Graves 1895–1985 Robert Graves

My familiar ghost again

Comes to see what he can see,

Critic, son of Conscious Brain,

Spying on our privacy.

Slam the window, bolt the door,

Yet he’ll enter in and stay;

In to-morrow’s book he’ll score

Indiscretions of to-day.

Whispered love and muttered fears,

How their echoes fly about!

None escape his watchful ears,

Every sigh might be a shout.

No kind words nor angry cries

Turn away this grim spoilsport;

No fine lady’s pleading eyes,

Neither love, nor hate, nor . . . port.

Critic wears no smile of fun,

Speaks no word of blame nor praise,

Counts our kisses one by one,

Notes each gesture, every phrase.

My familiar ghost again

Stands or squats where suits him best;

Critic, son of Conscious Brain,

Listens, watches, takes no rest.

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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