Walter de la Mare

“Who said, 'All Time's delight”

“”

“Slowly, silently, now the moonWalks the night in her silver shoon.”

“A harvest mouse goes scampering by,By silver reeds in a silver stream.”

“Here lies a most beautiful lady,That ever was in the West Country.”

“But beauty vanishes; beauty passes;This lady of the West Country?”

“Look thy last on all things lovely,Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing.”

“‘Who knocks?’ ‘I, who was beautiful,And knock on the door.’”

“A face peered. All the grey nightThe sweet cheat gone.”

“It's a very odd thing&mdas;Turns into Miss T.”

“Three jolly huntsmen,Up to bed.”

“Bang! Now the animalEat or sleep or drink again, oh, what fun!”

“Wonderful lovely there she sat,Of that there lonely bay.”

“For beauty with sorrowThat music, remote, forlorn.”

“Some one came knockingI’m sure—sure—sure.”

“Softly along the road of evening,Old Nod, the shepherd, goes.”

“His are the quiet steeps of dreamland,“Rest, rest, and rest again.””

“We wake and whisper awhile,Of amaranth lie.”

“Oh, no man knowsRoves back the rose.”

“Old Rover in his moss-greened houseMumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse.”

“Dobbin at manger pulls his hay:Gone is another summer’s day.”

“All but blindThe four-clawed Mole.”

“So, blind to SomeoneI must be.”

“What lovely thingsThy hand hath made.”

““Bunches of grapes,” says Timothy;For me,” says Jane.”

““A bumpity ride in a wagon of hay””

“Poor tired Tim! It’s sad for himEver so tired of nothing to do.”

“‘What is the world, O soldiers?This northern sky.”

“"Is anybody there?" said the Traveler,Of the forest's ferny floor.”

“"Tell them I came, and no one answered,That I kept my word," he said.”

“Never the least stir made the listeners,When the plunging hoofs were gone.”

“Who said, 'All Time's delight”

“After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts – like a Chinese nest of boxes – oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front – in our ancestors, back and back until...”

“It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave.”

“It was this mystery, bereft now of all fear, and this beauty together that made life the endless, changing and yet changeless, thing it was. And yet mystery and loveliness alike were really only appreciable with one's legs, as it were, dangling down over into the grave.”