Poem

Careers

Robert Graves
Father is quite the greatest poet     That ever lived anywhere. You say you’re going to write great music—     I chose that first: it’s unfair. Besides, now I can’t be the greatest painter and         do Christ and angels, or lovely pears         and apples and grapes on a green dish,         or storms at sea, or anything lovely, Because that’s been taken by Claire. It’s stupid to be an engine-driver,     And soldiers are horrible men. I won’t be a tailor, I won’t be a sailor,     And gardener’s taken by Ben. It’s unfair if you say that you’ll write great         music, you horrid, you unkind (I sim-         ply loathe you, though you are my         sister), you beast, cad, coward, cheat,         bully, liar! Well? Say what’s left for me then! But we won’t go to your ugly music.     (Listen!) Ben will garden and dig, And Claire will finish her wondrous pictures     All flaming and splendid and big. And I’ll be a perfectly marvellous carpenter,         and I’ll make cupboards and benches         and tables and ... and baths, and         nice wooden boxes for studs and         money, And you’ll be jealous, you pig!

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