Explore "Sorley's Weather" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When outside the icy rain / Comes leaping helter-skelter, / Shall I tie my restive brain / Snugly under shelter?
Shall I make a gentle song / Here in my firelit study, / When outside the winds blow strong / And the lanes are muddy?
With old wine and drowsy meats / Am I to fill my belly? / Shall I glutton here with Keats? / Shall I drink with Shelley?
Tobacco's pleasant, firelight's good: / Poetry makes both better. / Clay is wet and so is mud, / Winter rains are wetter.
Yet rest there, Shelley, on the sill, / For though the winds come frorely, / I'm away to the rain-blown hill / And the ghost of Sorley.