Who is Robert Von Ranke Graves

Captain Robert von Ranke Graves (24 July 1895 – 7 December 1985) was a British poet, historical novelist and critic. 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 in his lifetime. His poems, his translations and innovative analysis 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 is also a renowned short story writer, with stories such as 'The Tenement' still being popular today

He earned his living from writing, particularly popular historical novels such as I, Claudius; King Je...
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Robert Von Ranke Graves Poems

  • Cherry-time
    Cherries of the night are riper
    Than the cherries pluckt at noon
    Gather to your fairy piper
    When he pipes his magic tune: ...
  • The Poet In The Nursery
    The youngest poet down the shelves was fumbling
    In a dim library, just behind the chair
    From which the ancient poet was mum-mumbling
    A song about some Lovers at a Fair, ...
  • Ghost Raddled
    "Come, surly fellow, come! A song!"
    What, madmen? Sing to you?
    Choose from the clouded tales of wrong
    And terror I bring to you. ...
  • Baloo Loo For Jenny
    Sing baloo loo for Jenny
    And where is she gone?
    Away to spy her mother's land,
    Riding all alone. ...
  • Nine O'clock
    I.

    Nine of the clock, oh!
    Wake my lazy head! ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Robert Von Ranke Graves

Long 19 Cold 17 True 16 Great 16 High 16 Good 15 Young 15 Thought 12 White 11 Hard 10


Robert Von Ranke Graves Quotes

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8x6qgjlfazj9yno: captain robert von ranke graves (24 july 1895 – 7 december 1985)
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Poem of the day

Alfred Lord Tennyson Poem
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 069
 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I dream'd there would be Spring no more,
That Nature's ancient power was lost:
The streets were black with smoke and frost,
They chatter'd trifles at the door:

I wander'd from the noisy town,
I found a wood with thorny boughs:
I took the thorns to bind my brows,
...

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