Yesterday was a wet, dreary day. However, I curled up in the corner chair near the fire last night and read poetry while deciding what to post today. Here's my choice.
Sorley’s WeatherThe round up this week is being hosted by the amazing Elaine over at Wild Rose Reader. Do stop by and take in all the great poetry being shared. Before you go, don't forget to check out this week's poetry stretch results. Happy poetry Friday, all!
by Robert Graves
When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?
Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?
With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?
Tobacco’s pleasant, firelight’s good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.
Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill,
For though the winds come frorely,
I’m away to the rain-blown hill
And the ghost of Sorley.
This poem comes from the book Fairies and Fusiliers, published in 1918. You can read more poems from the book here.