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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507152" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bough of Nonsense</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AN IDYLL</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Back from the Somme two Fusiliers <br>Limped painfully home; the elder said, <br>S. “Robert, I’ve lived three thousand years <br>This Summer, and I’m nine parts dead.” <br>R. “But if that’s truly so,” I cried, “quick, now,<br>Through these great oaks and see the famous bough </div><div style="margin:10px 0">”Where once a nonsense built her nest <br>With skulls and flowers and all things queer, <br>In an old boot, with patient breast <br>Hatching three eggs; and the next year…”<br>S. “Foaled thirteen squamous young beneath, and rid <br>Wales of drink, melancholy, and psalms, she did.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said he, “Before this quaint mood fails, <br>We’ll sit and weave a nonsense hymn,” <br>R. “Hanging it up with monkey tails<br>In a deep grove all hushed and dim….” <br>S. “To glorious yellow-bunched banana-trees,” <br>R. “Planted in dreams by pious Portuguese,” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">S. “Which men are wise beyond their time, <br>And worship nonsense, no one more.”<br>R. “Hard by, among old quince and lime, <br>They’ve built a temple with no floor,” <br>S. “And whosoever worships in that place, <br>He disappears from sight and leaves no trace.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">R. “Once the Galatians built a fane<br>To Sense: what duller God than that?” <br>S. “But the first day of autumn rain <br>The roof fell in and crushed them flat.” <br>R. “Ay, for a roof of subtlest logic falls <br>When nonsense is foundation for the walls.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I tell him old Galatian tales; <br>He caps them in quick Portuguese, <br>While phantom creatures with green scales <br>Scramble and roll among the trees. <br>The hymn swells; on a bough above us sings<br>A row of bright pink birds, flapping their wings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Graves">Robert Graves</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507152" data-title="The Bough of Nonsense de Robert Graves" data-description="AN IDYLL


Back from the Somme two Fusiliers 
Limped painfully home; the elder said, 
S. “Robert, I’ve lived three thousand years 
This Summer, and I’m nine parts dead.” 
R. “But if that’s truly so,” I cried, “quick, now,
Through t..."></div>
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