MR. PHILOSOPHER by ROBERT GRAVES
Old Mr. Philosopher Comes for Ben and Claire, An ugly man, a tall man, With bright-red hair.
The books that he's written No one can read. 'In fifty years they'll understand: Now there's no need.
'All that matters now Is getting the fun. Come along, Ben and Claire; Plenty to be done.'
Then old Philosopher, Wisest man alive, Plays at Lions and Tigers Down along the drive---
Gambolling fiercely Through bushes and grass, Making monstrous mouths, Braying like an ass,
Twisting buttercups In his orange hair, Hopping like a kangaroo, Growling like a bear.
Right up to tea-time They frolic there. 'My legs are wingle,' Says Ben to Claire.
|Author||Graves, Robert (1895-1985)|
|Item Date||(1995, 1997, 1999)|
|Copyright||The Robert Graves Copyright Trust|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|