Robert Graves


When on the cliffs we met, by chance,
          I startled at your quiet voice
And watched the swallows round you dance
          Like children that had made a choice.

Simple it was, as I stood there,
          To penetrate the mask you wore,
Your secret lineage to declare
          And your lost dignities restore.

Yet thus I earned a poet’s fee
          So far out-distancing desire
That swallows yell in rage at me
          As who would set their world on fire.