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About this poet

On July 24, 1895, Robert Graves was born in Wimbledon, near London. His father, Alfred Perceval Graves, was a Gaelic scholar and minor Irish poet. His mother, Amalie von Ranke Graves, was a relation of Leopold von Ranke, one of the founding fathers of modern historical studies. One of ten children, Robert was greatly influenced by his mother's puritanical beliefs and his father's love of Celtic poetry and myth. As a young man, he was more interested in boxing and mountain climbing than studying, although poetry later sustained him through a turbulent adolescence. In 1913 Graves won a scholarship to continue his studies at St. John's College, Oxford, but in August 1914 he enlisted as a junior officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers. He fought in the Battle of Loos and was injured in the Somme offensive in 1916. While convalescing, he published his first collection of poetry, Over the Brazier. By 1917, though still an active serviceman, Graves had published three volumes. In 1918, he spent a year in the trenches, where he was again severely wounded.

In January 1918, at the age of twenty-two, he married eighteen-year-old Nancy Nicholson, with whom he was to have four children. Traumatized by the war, he went to Oxford with his wife and took a position at St. John's College. Graves's early volumes of poetry, like those of his contemporaries, deal with natural beauty and bucolic pleasures, and with the consequences of the First World War. Over the Brazier and Fairies and Fusiliers earned for Graves the reputation as an accomplished war poet. After meeting the American poet and theorist Laura Riding in 1926, Graves's poetry underwent a significant transformation. Douglas Day has written that the "influence of Laura Riding is quite possibly the most important single element in [Graves's] poetic career: she persuaded him to curb his digressiveness and his rambling philosophizing and to concentrate instead on terse, ironic poems written on personal themes."

In 1927, Graves and his first wife separated permanently, and in 1929 he published Goodbye to All That, an autobiography that announced his psychological accommodation with the residual horror of his war experiences. Shortly afterward, he departed to Majorca with Laura Riding. In addition to completing many books of verse while in Majorca, Graves also wrote several volumes of criticism, some in collaboration with Riding. The couple cofounded Seizin Press in 1928 and Epilogue, a semiannual magazine, in 1935. During that period, he evolved his theory of poetry as spiritually cathartic to both the poet and the reader. Although Graves claimed that he wrote novels only to earn money, it was through these that he attained status as a major writer in 1934, with the publication of the historical novel I, Claudius, and its sequel, Claudius the God and His Wife Messalina. (During the 1970's, the BBC adapted the novels into an internationally popular television series.)

At the onset of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, Graves and Riding fled Majorca, eventually settling in America. In 1939, Laura Riding left Graves for the writer Schuyler Jackson; one year later Graves began a relationship with Beryl Hodge that was to last until his death. It was in the 1940s, after his break with Riding, that Graves formulated his personal mythology of the White Goddess. Inspired by late nineteenth-century studies of matriarchal societies and goddess cults, this mythology was to pervade all of his later work.

After World War II, Graves returned to Majorca, where he lived with Hodge and continued to write. By the 1950s, Graves had won an enormous international reputation as a poet, novelist, literary scholar, and translator. In 1962, W. H. Auden went as far as to assert that Graves was England's "greatest living poet." In 1968, he received the Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry. During his lifetime he published more than 140 books, including fifty-five collections of poetry (he reworked his Collected Poems repeatedly during his career), fifteen novels, ten translations, and forty works of nonfiction, autobiography, and literary essays. From 1961 to 1966, Graves returned to England to serve as a professor of poetry at Oxford. In the 1970s his productivity fell off; and the last decade of his life was lost in silence and senility. Robert Graves died in Majorca in 1985, at the age of ninety.


Selected Bibliography

Poetry

Over the Brazier (1916)
Goliath and David (1917)
Fairies and Fusiliers (1918)
Treasure Box (1920)
Country Sentiment (1920)
The Pier-Glass (1921)
Whipperginny (1923)
To Whom Else? Deyá (1931)
The Poems of Robert Graves (1958)
Man Does, Woman Is (1964)
Love Respelt (1966)
Poems About Love (1969)
Love Respelt Again (1969)
Poems: Abridged for Dolls and Princes (1971)
Poems 1970-1972 (1973)
New Collected Poems (1977)
The Complete Poems, ed. Beryl Graves and Dunstan Ward (2000)

I Wonder What It Feels Like to be Drowned?

Robert Graves, 1895 - 1985
Look at my knees,   
That island rising from the steamy seas!   
The candle's a tall lightship; my two hands   
Are boats and barges anchored to the sands,   
With mighty cliffs all round; 
They're full of wine and riches from far lands....   
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?
   
I can make caves,   
By lifting up the island and huge waves   
And storms, and then with head and ears well under
Blow bubbles with a monstrous roar like thunder,   
A bull-of-Bashan sound.   
The seas run high and the boats split asunder....   
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?  
   
The thin soap slips
And slithers like a shark under the ships.   
My toes are on the soap-dish—that's the effect   
Of my huge storms; an iron steamer's wrecked.   
The soap slides round and round;   
He's biting the old sailors, I expect....
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?

This poem is in the public domain.

Robert Graves

Robert Graves

The author of numerous collections of poetry, novels, and translation, Robert Graves was viewed as an accomplished war poet and is the author of I, Claudius

by this poet

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poem
Walking through trees to cool my heat and pain,  
I know that David’s with me here again.  
All that is simple, happy, strong, he is.  
Caressingly I stroke  
Rough bark of the friendly oak. 
A brook goes bubbling by: the voice is his.  
Turf burns with pleasant smoke;  
I laugh at chaffinch and at primroses.
poem
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