Country Sentiment

Part 1

Produced by Sue Asscher

COUNTRY SENTIMENT

by Robert Graves

To Nancy Nicholson

Note: Some of the poems included in this volume have appeared in "The New Statesman", "The Owl", "Reveille", "Land and Water", "Poetry", and other papers, English and American.

Robert Graves.

Harlech,

North Wales.

CONTENTS

A Frosty Night Song for Two Children Dicky The Three Drinkers The Boy out of Church After the Play One Hard Look True Johnny The Voice of Beauty Drowned The God Called Poetry Rocky Acres Advice to Lovers Nebuchadnezzar's Fall Give us Rain Allie Loving Henry Brittle Bones Apples and Water Manticor in Arabia Outlaws Baloo Loo for Jenny Hawk and Buckle The "Alice Jean" The Cupboard The Beacon Pot and Kettle Ghost Raddled Neglectful Edward The Well-dressed Children Thunder at Night To E.M.--A Ballad of Nursery Rhyme Jane Vain and Careless Nine o'Clock The Picture Book The Promised Lullaby

RETROSPECT

Haunted Retrospect: The Jests of the Clock Here They Lie Tom Taylor Country at War Sospan Fach The Leveller Hate not, Fear not A Rhyme of Friends A First Review

A FROSTY NIGHT.

Mother

Alice, dear, what ails you, Dazed and white and shaken? Has the chill night numbed you? Is it fright you have taken?

Alice

Mother, I am very well, I felt never better, Mother, do not hold me so, Let me write my letter.

Mother

Sweet, my dear, what ails you?

Alice

No, but I am well; The night was cold and frosty, There's no more to tell.

Mother

Ay, the night was frosty, Coldly gaped the moon, Yet the birds seemed twittering Through green boughs of June.

Soft and thick the snow lay, Stars danced in the sky. Not all the lambs of May-day Skip so bold and high.

Your feet were dancing, Alice, Seemed to dance on air, You looked a ghost or angel In the starlight there.

Your eyes were frosted starlight, Your heart fire and snow. Who was it said, "I love you"?

Alice

Mother, let me go!

Part 2

A SONG FOR TWO CHILDREN.

"Make a song, father, a new little song, All for Jenny and Nancy." Balow lalow or Hey derry down, Or else what might you fancy?

Is there any song sweet enough For Nancy and for Jenny? Said Simple Simon to the pieman, "Indeed I know not any."

"I've counted the miles to Babylon, I've flown the earth like a bird, I've ridden cock-horse to Banbury Cross, But no such song have I heard."

"Some speak of Alexander, And some of Hercules, But where are there any like Nancy and Jenny, Where are there any like these?"

DICKY.

Mother

Oh, what a heavy sigh! Dicky, are you ailing?

Dicky

Even by this fireside, mother, My heart is failing.

To-night across the down, Whistling and jolly, I sauntered out from town With my stick of holly.

Bounteous and cool from sea The wind was blowing, Cloud shadows under the moon Coming and going.

I sang old roaring songs, Ran and leaped quick, And turned home by St. Swithin's Twirling my stick.

And there as I was passing The churchyard gate An old man stopped me, "Dicky, You're walking late."

I did not know the man, I grew afeared At his lean lolling jaw, His spreading beard.

His garments old and musty, Of antique cut, His body very lean and bony, His eyes tight shut.

Oh, even to tell it now My courage ebbs... His face was clay, mother, His beard, cobwebs.

In that long horrid pause "Good-night," he said, Entered and clicked the gate, "Each to his bed."

Mother

Do not sigh or fear, Dicky, How is it right To grudge the dead their ghostly dark And wan moonlight?

We have the glorious sun, Lamp and fireside. Grudge not the dead their moonshine When abroad they ride.

THE THREE DRINKERS.

Blacksmith Green had three strong sons, With bread and beef did fill 'em, Now John and Ned are perished and dead, But plenty remains of William.

John Green was a whiskey drinker, The Land of Cakes supplied him, Till at last his soul flew out by the hole That the fierce drink burned inside him.

Ned Green was a water drinker, And, Lord, how Ned would fuddle! He rotted away his mortal clay Like an old boot thrown in a puddle.

Will Green was a wise young drinker, Shrank from whiskey or water, But he made good cheer with headstrong beer, And married an alderman's daughter.

THE BOY OUT OF CHURCH.

As Jesus and his followers Upon a Sabbath morn Were walking by a wheat field They plucked the ears of corn.

Part 3

They plucked it, they rubbed it, They blew the husks away, Which grieved the pious pharisees Upon the Sabbath day.

And Jesus said, "A riddle Answer if you can, Was man made for the Sabbath Or Sabbath made for man?"

I do not love the Sabbath, The soapsuds and the starch, The troops of solemn people Who to Salvation march.

I take my book, I take my stick On the Sabbath day, In woody nooks and valleys I hide myself away.

To ponder there in quiet God's Universal Plan, Resolved that church and Sabbath Were never made for man.

AFTER THE PLAY.

Father

Have you spent the money I gave you to-day?

John

Ay, father I have. A fourpence on cakes, two pennies that away To a beggar I gave.

Father

The lake of yellow brimstone boil for you in Hell, Such lies that you spin. Tell the truth now, John, ere the falsehood swell, Say, where have you been?

John

I'll lie no more to you, father, what is the need? To the Play I went, With sixpence for a near seat, money's worth indeed, The best ever spent.

Grief to you, shame or grief, here is the story-- My splendid night! It was colour, scents, music, a tragic glory, Fear with delight.

Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, title of the tale: He of that name, A tall, glum fellow, velvet cloaked, with a shirt of mail, Two eyes like flame.

All the furies of fate circled round the man, Maddening his heart, There was old murder done before play began, Ay, the ghost took part.

There were grave-diggers delving, they brought up bones, And with rage and grief All the players shouted in full, kingly tones, Grand, passing belief.

Oh, there were ladies there radiant like day, And changing scenes: Great sounding words were tossed about like hay By kings and queens.

How the plot turned about I watched in vain, Though for grief I cried, As one and all they faded, poisoned or slain, In great agony died.

Father, you'll drive me forth never to return, Doubting me your son--

Father

So I shall, John

John

--but that glory for which I burn Shall be soon begun.

I shall wear great boots, shall strut and shout, Keep my locks curled. The fame of my name shall go ringing about Over half the world.

Father

Horror that your Prince found, John may you find, Ever and again Dying before the house in such torture of mind As you need not feign.

Part 4

While they clap and stamp at your nightly fate, They shall never know The curse that drags at you, until Hell's gate. You have heard me. Go!

SONG: ONE HARD LOOK.

Small gnats that fly In hot July And lodge in sleeping ears, Can rouse therein A trumpet's din With Day-of-Judgement fears.

Small mice at night Can wake more fright Than lions at midday. An urchin small Torments us all Who tread his prickly way.

A straw will crack The camel's back, To die we need but sip, So little sand As fills the hand Can stop a steaming ship.

One smile relieves A heart that grieves Though deadly sad it be, And one hard look Can close the book That lovers love to see--

TRUE JOHNNY.

Johnny, sweetheart, can you be true To all those famous vows you've made, Will you love me as I love you Until we both in earth are laid? Or shall the old wives nod and say His love was only for a day: The mood goes by, His fancies fly, And Mary's left to sigh.

Mary, alas, you've hit the truth, And I with grief can but admit Hot-blooded haste controls my youth, My idle fancies veer and flit From flower to flower, from tree to tree, And when the moment catches me, Oh, love goes by Away I fly And leave my girl to sigh.

Could you but now foretell the day, Johnny, when this sad thing must be, When light and gay you'll turn away And laugh and break the heart in me? For like a nut for true love's sake My empty heart shall crack and break, When fancies fly And love goes by And Mary's left to die.

When the sun turns against the clock, When Avon waters upward flow, When eggs are laid by barn-door cock, When dusty hens do strut and crow, When up is down, when left is right, Oh, then I'll break the troth I plight, With careless eye Away I'll fly And Mary here shall die.

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