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The Scribe

Rating: 2.8
What lovely things
Thy hand hath made:
The smooth-plumed bird
In its emerald shade,
The seed of the grass,
The speck of the stone
Which the wayfaring ant
Stirs -- and hastes on!

Though I should sit
By some tarn in thy hills,
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COMMENTS
Elissa Epel 21 September 2006
I have been unable to find the poem by Walter de la Mare that I needed to see in order to check the correctness of the text in an anthology that I am editing. It is entitled 'Which, ' and goes, ''What did you say? ' /'I? Nothing.' 'No? ...'/'What was that sound? '/'When? '/'Then.'/'Whose eyes were those on us? '/'Where? '/'There.'/'No eyes I saw.'/'Speech, footfall, presence - how cold the night may be.'/'Phantom or fantasy, it's all one to me.''
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