Mr. Philosopher
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.
Robert Graves
Other poems of Robert Graves
1915
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The child alone a poet is:
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Call it a good marriage -
For no one ever questioned
Careers
Father is quite the greatest poet
That ever lived...
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rouses from the...
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Remember our lists of birds?
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I cast for fish that pleased...

