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Vain and Careless

By Robert Graves

Lady, lovely lady,
   Careless and gay!
Once when a beggar called
   She gave her child away.
 
The beggar took the baby,
   Wrapped it in a shawl,
“Bring her back,” the lady said,
   “Next time you call.”
 
Hard by lived a vain man,
   So vain and so proud,
He walked on stilts
   To be seen by the crowd.
 
Up above the chimney pots,
   Tall as a mast,
And all the people ran about
   Shouting till he passed.
 
“A splendid match surely,”
   Neighbours saw it plain,
“Although she is so careless,
   Although he is so vain.”
 
But the lady played bobcherry,
   Did not see or care,
As the vain man went by her
   Aloft in the air.
 
This gentle-born couple
   Lived and died apart.
Water will not mix with oil,
   Nor vain with careless heart.

Poet Bio

Image of Robert Graves

Robert Graves was an English poet, scholar/translator, writer of antiquity specializing in Classical Greece and Rome, and novelist. A rebel socially, as well as artistically, Graves left his wife and four children in 1929 to live in Majorca with Laura Riding, an American poet. After his break with Riding, Graves, inspired by studies of matriarchal societies and goddess cults, formulated his own personal mythology of the White Goddess which would affect all of his future work.

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Meanwhile

By Richard Siken

    Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
                            the new streets yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
     everything's okay,
  a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
                 the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
          The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
                                     it's not, it's breakfast
   and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
                   holding the bar of soap up to the light.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
      Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
                            I sleep. I dream. I make up things
   that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
                      The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
          the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
      It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
                                  green beautiful green.
   It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.

  • Living
  • Relationships