Read "The Spoilsport" by Robert Graves online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
My familiar ghost again / Comes to see what he can see, / Critic, son of Conscious Brain, / Spying on our privacy.
Slam the window, bolt the door, / Yet he'll enter in and stay; / In tomorrow's book he'll score / Indiscretions of today.
Whispered love and muttered fears, / How their echoes fly about! / None escape his watchful ears, / Every sigh might be a shout.
No kind words nor angry cries / Turn away this grim spoilsport; / No fine lady's pleading eyes, / Neither love, nor hate, nor. port.
Critics wears no smile of fun, / Speaks no word of blame nor praise, / Counts our kisses one by one, / Notes each gesture, every phrase.
My familiar ghost again / Stands or squats where suits him best; / Critic, son of Conscious Brain, / Listens, watches, takes no rest.