Walter de la Mare

(1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)

Walter de la Mare
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Sir Walter de la Mare was born in Charlton, Kent, in the south of England, of well-to-do parents. His father, James Edward Delamaere, was an official of the Bank of England. His mother, Lucy Sophia (Browning) Delamare, was related to the poet Robert Browning. He was educated in London at St. Paul's Cathedral Choir School, which he left at age 16. From 1890 to 1908 he worked in London in the accounting department of the Anglo-American Oil Company. His career as a writer started from about 1895 and he continued to publish to the end of his life. His first published story, 'Kismet' (1895), appeared in the Sketch under the pseudonym Walter Ramal.

In 1908 de la Mare was awarded a ... more »

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Comments about Walter de la Mare

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  • Rookie Priyantha Guawardena (12/8/2013 8:49:00 AM)

    help me get the real idea of some one poem -priyantha

  • Rookie Priyantha Guawardena (12/8/2013 8:48:00 AM)

    what is the fully meaning of some one

  • Rookie Thaar Ali (2/2/2012 1:21:00 PM)

    he is agoodman and he is the best

  • Rookie - 7 Points Sylva Portoian (2/26/2010 7:17:00 AM)

    I can't -at all -f ancy him
    He writes like an eight-year old child.
    He became famous because of his dad,
    What a lucky-guy he is!
    A large platinum -spoon
    Pushed in his mouth.

  • Rookie Haroon Mustafa (3/17/2007 7:22:00 AM)

    he is the master of creating imagery.he wants us to enjoy his world of imagination

  • Rookie Koko Krisp (3/24/2005 5:20:00 PM)

    he cool! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Read all 6 comments »
Best Poem of Walter de la Mare

The Listeners

"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grass
Of the forest's ferny floor;
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller's head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of ...

Read the full of The Listeners

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