Brittle Bones.

Though I am an old man
    With my bones very brittle,
Though I am a poor old man
    Worth very little,
Yet I suck at my long pipe
    At peace in the sun,
I do not fret nor much regret
    That my work is done.

If I were a young man
    With my bones full of marrow,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
    Straight as an arrow,
And if I had the same years
    To live once again,
I would not change their simple range
    Of laughter and pain.

If I were a young man
    And young was my Lily,
A smart girl, a bold young man,
    Both of us silly.
And though from time before I knew
    She'd stab me with pain,
Though well I knew she'd not be true,
    I'd love her again.

If I were a young man
    With a brisk, healthy body,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
    With love of rum toddy,
Though I knew that I was spiting
    My old age with pain,
My happy lip would touch and sip
    Again and again.

If I were a young man
    With my bones full of marrow,
Oh, if I were a bold young man
    Straight as an arrow,
I'd store up no virtue
    For Heaven's distant plain,
I'd live at ease as I did please
    And sin once again.

Robert von Ranke Graves

Robert von Ranke Graves was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist. His father was Alfred Perceval Graves, a distinguished Irish poet and figure in the Gaelic revival. Known for his war poetry, love poems, and scholarly works, he created a lasting literary legacy, including his interpretations of the Greek myths. Graves was also a soldier in World War I, an experience that profoundly influenced his writing.

Robert von Ranke Graves

To E.M., A Ballad Of Nursery Rhyme.

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

Marigolds

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

The Bough Of Nonsense

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

A Child's Nightmare

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

English

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