OVER THE BRAZIER BY ROBERT GRAVES LONDON -- THE POETRY BOOKSHOP, 35 DEVONSHIRE ST., THEOBALDS RD. W.C.1 _Poetry by the Same Author_ FAIRIES AND FUSILIERS (William Heinemann 1917) COUNTRY SENTIMENT (Martin Secker: 1920) First Printed 1916 Second Impression 1917 Reprinted 1920 FOREWORD TO NEW EDITION When these poems, written between the ages of fourteen and twenty, first appeared, I was serving in France and had no leisure for getting the final proofs altogether as I wanted them. The same year, but too late, I decided on several alterations in the text, including the suppression of two small poems inexcusable even as early work. These amendations appear in this new edition, but I have left the bulk of the book as it stood. +Robert Graves.+ Harlech, North Wales. THE POET IN THE NURSERY The youngest poet down the shelves was fumbling In a dim library, just behind the chair From which the ancient poet was mum-mumbling A song about some Lovers at a Fair, Pulling his long white beard and gently grumbling That rhymes were beastly things and never there. And as I groped, the whole time I was thinking About the tragic poem I'd been writing-- An old man's life of beer and whisky drinking, His years of kidnapping and wicked fighting; And how at last, into a fever sinking, Remorsefully he died, his bedclothes biting. But suddenly I saw the bright green cover Of a thin pretty book right down below; I snatched it up and turned the pages over, To find it full of poetry, and so Put it down my neck with quick hands like a lover And turned to watch if the old man saw it go. The book was full of funny muddling mazes Each rounded off into a lovely song, And most extraordinary and monstrous phrases Knotted with rhymes like a slave-driver's thong, And metre twisting like a chain of daisies With great big splendid words a sentence long. I took the book to bed with me and gloated, Learning the lines that seemed to sound most grand, So soon the pretty emerald green was coated With jam and greasy marks from my hot hand, While round the nursery for long months there floated Wonderful words no one could understand. PART I.--Poems Mostly Written at Charterhouse--1910-1914 STAR-TALK "Are you awake, Gemelli, This frosty night?" "We'll be awake till reveillé, Which is Sunrise," say the Gemelli, "It's no good trying to go to sleep: If there's wine to be got we'll drink it deep, But sleep is gone to to-night, But sleep is gone for to-night."