Walter de la Mare

(1873 - 1958 / Kent / England)

Walter de la Mare Poems

41. Silver 1/3/2003
42. Sleep 3/30/2010
43. Snow 1/3/2003
44. Some One 1/1/2004
45. Song of the Mad Prince 11/13/2015
46. Sotto Voce 3/30/2010
47. Sunk Lyonesse 1/3/2003
48. Suppose 3/30/2010
49. Tartary 1/1/2004
50. The Birthnight 12/3/2014
51. The Children Of Stare 3/30/2010
52. The Corner Stone 3/30/2010
53. The Empty House 3/30/2010
54. The Fly 3/30/2010
55. The Fool Rings His Bells (MOTLEY) 1/3/2003
56. The Ghost 1/3/2003
57. The Huntsmen 1/3/2003
58. The Keys Of Morning 1/3/2003
59. The Linnet 3/30/2010
60. The Listeners 1/3/2003
61. The Market-Place 3/30/2010
62. The Mocking Fairy 1/3/2003
63. The Moth 3/30/2010
64. The Mother Bird 10/23/2015
65. The Night-Swans 3/2/2015
66. The Old Men 3/30/2010
67. The Pigs And The Charcoal-Burner 3/30/2010
68. The Remonstrance 1/3/2003
69. The Ruin 3/30/2010
70. The Scarecrow 3/30/2010
71. The Scribe 1/3/2003
72. The Seas Of England 3/30/2010
73. The Sleeper 1/3/2003
74. The Song Of Finis 1/3/2003
75. The Song Of Shadows 1/3/2003
76. The Spirit Of Air 1/3/2003
77. The Strangers 3/30/2010
78. The Sunken Garden 3/30/2010
79. The Three Strangers 3/30/2010
80. The Titmouse 3/30/2010
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

Some One

Some one came knocking
At my wee, small door;
Someone came knocking;
I'm sure-sure-sure;
I listened, I opened,
I looked to left and right,
But nought there was a stirring
In the still dark night;
Only the busy beetle

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