Walter de la Mare
Walter de la Mare Poems
|83.||The World Of Dream||8/2/2012|
|84.||Tit For Tat||3/30/2010|
|85.||Tom's Little Dog||1/3/2003|
|87.||Up And Down||3/30/2010|
|89.||When The Rose Is Faded||1/3/2003|
"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 ...
THERE is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,