Walter de la Mare Poetry

Walter John de la Mare OM CH (/ˈdɛləˌmɛər/; 25 April 1873 – 22 June 1956) was an English poet, short story writer and novelist. He is probably best remembered for his works for children, for his poem "The Listeners", and for a highly acclaimed small selection of subtle psychological horror s... Read More

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That one, alone,
Who's dared and gone
To seek the Magic Wonderstone,
No fear, or care,
Or black

Bitterly, England must thou grieve —
Though none of these poor men who died
But did within his s

Far are the shades of Arabia,
Where the Princes ride at noon,
'Mid the verdurous vales and thick

I can't abear a butcher,
I can't abide his meat,
The ugliest shop of all is his,
The ugliest in t

Upon a bank, easeless with knobs of gold,
Beneath a canopy of noonday smoke,
I saw a measureless

A song of Enchantment I sang me there,
In a green-green wood, by waters fair,
Just as the words ca

"Once...Once upon a time..."
Over and over again,
Martha would tell us her stories,
In the haz

Jagg'd mountain peaks and skies ice-green
Wall in the wild, cold scene below.
Churches, farms, bar

It was the Great Alexander,
Capped with a golden helm,
Sate in the ages, in his floating ship,

The far moon maketh lovers wise
In her pale beauty trembling down,
Lending curved cheeks, dark lip

All but blind
In his chambered hole,
Gropes for worms
The four-clawed mole.

All but blind
In

Dry August burned. A harvest hare
Limp on the kitchen table lay,
Its fur blood-blubbered, eye as

The last of last words spoken is, Good-bye -
The last dismantled flower in the weed-grown hedge,
T

Puss loves man's winter fire
Now that the sun so soon
Leaves the hours cold it warmed
In burning

Three jolly Farmers
Once bet a pound
Each dance the others would
Off the ground.
Out of thei

I spied John Mouldy in his celler,
Deep down twenty steps of stone;
In the dusk he sat a-smiling

When I lie where shades of darkness
Shall no more assail mine eyes,
Nor the rain make lamentatio

The seeds I sowed -
For week unseen -
Have pushed up pygmy
Shoots of green;
So frail you'd think

One moment take thy rest.
Out of mere nought in space
Beauty moved human breast
To tell in this f

"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the s

It's a very odd thing -
As odd can be -
That whatever Miss T eats
Turns into Miss T.;
Porridge a

The abode of the nightingale is bare,
Flowered frost congeals in the gelid air,
The fox howls from

Thistle and darnell and dock grew there,
And a bush, in the corner, of may,
On the orchard wall

What is the world, O soldiers?
It is I:
I, this incessant snow,
This northern sky;
Soldiers, thi

THERE is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o

Most wounds can Time repair;
But some are mortal -- these:
For a broken heart there is no balm,
N

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers,

As I was walking,
Thyme sweet to my nose,
Green grasshoppers talking,
Rose rivalling rose:
And w

Very old are the woods;
And the buds that break
Out of the brier's boughs,
When March winds wa

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the s

Hi! Handsome hunting man,
Fire your little gun,
Bang! Now that animal
Is dead and dumb and done.

Thistle and darnell and dock grew there,
And a bush, in the corner, of may,
On the orchard wall

Here lies a most beautiful lady,
Light of step and heart was she;
I think she was the most beaut

Black lacqueys at the wide-flung door
Stand mute as men of wood.
Gleams like a pool the ballroom f

Softly along the road of evening,
In a twilight dim with rose,
Wrinkled with age, and drenched wit

When thin-strewn memory I look through,
I see most clearly poor Miss Loo,
Her tabby cat, her cag

'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful
Beyond all dreams to restore,
I from the roots of the dark

Three and thirty birds there stood
In an elder in a wood;
Called Melmillo -- flew off three,
L

When Susan's work was done, she'd sit
With one fat guttering candle lit,
And window opened wide

There is a wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Str

When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,
And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;
Her f

As I mused by the hearthside,
Puss said to me;
'there burns the fire , man,
and here sit we.

F

Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking;
I'm sure-sure-sure;
I liste

Said Mr. Smith, “I really cannot
Tell you, Dr. Jones—
The most peculiar pain I’m in—
I th

Peace in thy hands,
Peace in thine eyes,
Peace on thy brow;
Flower of a moment in the eternal

Walter de la Mare Poetry

Walter John de la Mare OM CH (/ˈdɛləˌmɛər/; 25 April 1873 – 22 June 1956) was an English poet, short story writer and novelist. He is probably best remembered for his works for children, for his poem "The Listeners", and for a highly acclaimed small selection of subtle psychological horror stories, amongst them "Seaton's Aunt" and "All Hallows". His 1921 novel Memoirs of a Midget won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for fiction,[2] and his post-war Collected Stories for Children won the 1947 Carnegie Medal for British children's books. De la Mare was born in Kent at 83 Maryon Road, Charlton[4] (now part of the Royal Borough of Greenwich), partly descended from a family of French Huguenots, and was educated at St Paul's Cathedral School. He was born to James Edward de la Mare, a principal at the Bank of England, and Lucy Sophia Browning (James' second wife), daughter of Scottish naval surgeon and author Dr Colin Arrott Browning. The suggestion that Lucy was related to poet Robert Browning has been found to be incorrect. He had two brothers, Francis Arthur Edward and James Herbert, and four sisters Florence Mary, Constance Eliza, Ethel (who died in infancy), and Ada Mary. De la Mare preferred to be known as 'Jack' by his family and friends as he disliked the name Walter. He worked from 1890 in the statistics department of the London office of Standard Oil for eighteen years to support his family, but nevertheless found time to write. In 1908, through the efforts of Sir Henry Newbolt he received a Civil List pension which enabled him to concentrate on writing. In 1892 de la Mare joined the Esperanza Amateur Dramatics Club where he met and fell in love with Elfrida Ingpen, the leading lady, who was ten years older than he. They were married on 4 August 1899 and they went on to have four children: Richard Herbert Ingpen, Colin, Florence and Lucy Elfrida de la Mare. The new family lived in Beckenham and Anerley from 1899 till 1924. It was in Beckenham at Mackenzie Road that the children were born, his first book of poems Songs of Childhood published (under the name Walter Ramal), and Henry Brocken written. Their house at Anerley in south London was the scene of many parties, notable for imaginative games of charades. In 1940, his wife Elfrida was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease and spent the rest of her life as an invalid, eventually dying in 1943. From 1940 until his death, de la Mare lived in South End House, Montpelier Row, Twickenham, the same street on which Alfred, Lord Tennyson had lived a century earlier. For the Collected Stories for Children (Faber & Faber, 1947), he won the annual Carnegie Medal from the Library Association, recognising the year's best children's book by a British subject. It was the first collection to win the award. De la Mare suffered from a coronary thrombosis in 1947 and died of another in 1956. He spent his final year mostly bed-ridden, being cared for by a nurse whom he loved but never had a physical relationship with. His ashes are buried in the crypt of St Paul's Cathedral, where he had once been a choirboy.... Read More