the histories of the night

I mentioned the other day that I was lucky enough to pick up some second-hand poetry and biography volumes ...

... one of them was this pictured 1982 biography of Robert Graves, written by Martin Seymour-Smith, who apparently knew Graves relatively well. I hadn't come across this volume before, and am looking forward to reading through it.

And, so here's a favourite Robert Graves poem:


Like Snow

She, then, like snow in a dark night,
Fell secretly. And the world waked
With dazzling of the drowsy eye,
So that some muttered 'Too much light',
And drew the curtains close.
Like snow, warmer than fingers feared,
And to soil friendly;
Holding the histories of the night
In yet unmelted tracks.

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Robert Graves (1895 - 1985)

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