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    Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.
    Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.
    Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.
    Ebook229 pages1 hour

    Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.

    By Walter de la Mare

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.

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      Book preview

      Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I. - Walter de la Mare

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes by Walter de la Mare

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes Volume I.

      Author: Walter de la Mare

      Release Date: April 14, 2004 [EBook #12031]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLECTED POEMS 1901-1918 ***

      Produced by Ted Garvin and PG Distributed Proofreaders

      COLLECTED POEMS

      1901-1918

      BY

      WALTER DE LA MARE

      IN TWO VOLUMES

      VOL. I

      1920

      * * * * *

      CONTENTS

      POEMS: 1906

      LYRICAL POEMS— SHADOW UNREGARDING THEY TOLD ME SORCERY THE CHILDREN OF STARE AGE THE GLIMPSE REMEMBRANCE TREACHERY IN VAIN THE MIRACLE KEEP INNOCENCY THE PHANTOM VOICES THULE THE BIRTHNIGHT: TO F. THE DEATH-DREAM WHERE IS THY VICTORY? FOREBODING VAIN FINDING NAPOLEON ENGLAND TRUCE EVENING NIGHT THE UNIVERSE GLORIA MUNDI IDLENESS GOLIATH

      CHARACTERS FROM SHAKESPEARE— FALSTAFF MACBETH BANQUO MERCUTIO JULIET'S NURSE IAGO IMOGEN POLONIUS OPHELIA HAMLET

      SONNETS— THE HAPPY ENCOUNTER APRIL SEA-MAGIC THE MARKET-PLACE ANATOMY EVEN IN THE GRAVE BRIGHT LIFE HUMANITY VIRTUE

      MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD— REVERIE THE MASSACRE ECHO FEAR THE MERMAIDS MYSELF AUTUMN WINTER ENVOI: TO MY MOTHER

      THE LISTENERS: 1914

      THE THREE CHERRY TREES OLD SUSAN OLD BEN MISS LOO THE TAILOR MARTHA THE SLEEPER THE KEYS OF MORNING RACHEL ALONE THE BELLS THE SCARECROW NOD THE BINDWEED WINTER THERE BLOOMS NO BUD IN MAY NOON AND NIGHT FLOWER ESTRANGED THE TIRED CUPID DREAMS FAITHLESS THE SHADE BE ANGRY NOW NO MORE EXILE WHERE? MUSIC UNHEARD ALL THAT'S PAST WHEN THE ROSE IS FADED SLEEP THE STRANGER NEVER MORE SAILOR ARABIA THE MOUNTAINS QUEEN DJENIRA NEVER-TO-BE THE DARK CHÂTEAU THE DWELLING-PLACE THE LISTENERS TIME PASSES BEWARE! THE JOURNEY HAUNTED SILENCE WINTER DUSK THE GHOST AN EPITAPH THE HAWTHORN HATH A DEATHLY SMELL

      MOTLEY: 1918

      THE LITTLE SALAMANDER THE LINNET THE SUNKEN GARDEN THE RIDDLERS MOONLIGHT THE BLIND BOY THE QUARRY MRS. GRUNDY THE TRYST ALONE THE EMPTY HOUSE MISTRESS FELL THE GHOST THE STRANGER BETRAYAL THE CAGE THE REVENANT MUSIC THE REMONSTRANCE NOCTURNE THE EXILE THE UNCHANGING INVOCATION EYES LIFE THE DISGUISE VAIN QUESTIONING VIGIL THE OLD MEN THE DREAMER MOTLEY THE MARIONETTES TO E.T.: 1917 APRIL MOON THE FOOL'S SONG CLEAR EYES DUST TO DUST THE THREE STRANGERS ALEXANDER THE REAWAKENING THE VACANT DAY THE FLIGHT FOR ALL THE GRIEF THE SCRIBE FARE WELL

      * * * * *

      POEMS: 1906

      TO HENRY NEWBOLT

      * * * * *

      LYRICAL POEMS

      * * * * *

      THEY TOLD ME

      They told me Pan was dead, but I

        Oft marvelled who it was that sang

      Down the green valleys languidly

        Where the grey elder-thickets hang.

      Sometimes I thought it was a bird

        My soul had charged with sorcery;

      Sometimes it seemed my own heart heard

        Inland the sorrow of the sea.

      But even where the primrose sets

        The seal of her pale loveliness,

      I found amid the violets

        Tears of an antique bitterness.

      SORCERY

      "What voice is that I hear

        Crying across the pool?"

      "It is the voice of Pan you hear,

      Crying his sorceries shrill and clear,

        In the twilight dim and cool."

       "What song is it he sings,

        Echoing from afar;

      While the sweet swallow bends her wings,

      Filling the air with twitterings,

        Beneath the brightening star?"

      The woodman answered me,

        His faggot on his back:—

      "Seek not the face of Pan to see;

      Flee from his clear note summoning thee

        To darkness deep and black!"

       "He dwells in thickest shade,

        Piping his notes forlorn

      Of sorrow never to be allayed;

      Turn from his coverts sad

        Of twilight unto morn!"

      The woodman passed away

        Along the forest path;

      His ax shone keen and grey

      In the last beams of day:

        And all was still as death:—

      Only Pan singing sweet

        Out of Earth's fragrant shade;

      I dreamed his eyes to meet,

      And found but shadow laid

        Before my tired feet.

      Comes no more dawn to me,

        Nor bird of open skies.

      Only his woods' deep gloom I see

        Till, at the end of all, shall rise,

      Afar and tranquilly,

      Death's stretching sea.

      THE CHILDREN OF STARE

        Winter is fallen early

        On the house of Stare;

      Birds in reverberating flocks

        Haunt its ancestral box;

        Bright are the plenteous berries

        In clusters in the air.

        Still is the fountain's music,

        The dark pool icy still,

      Whereupon a small and sanguine sun

        Floats in a mirror on,

        Into a West of crimson,

        From a South of daffodil.

        'Tis strange to see young children

        In such a wintry house;

      Like rabbits' on the frozen snow

        Their tell-tale footprints go;

        Their laughter rings like timbrels

        'Neath evening ominous:

        Their small and heightened faces

        Like wine-red winter buds;

      Their frolic bodies gentle as

        Flakes in the air that pass,

        Frail as the twirling petal

        From the briar of the woods.

        Above them silence lours,

        Still as an arctic sea;

      Light fails; night falls; the wintry moon

        Glitters; the crocus soon

        Will ope grey and distracted

        On earth's austerity:

        Thick mystery, wild peril,

        Law like an iron rod:—

      Yet sport they on in Spring's attire,

        Each with his tiny fire

        Blown to a core of ardour

        By the awful breath of God.

      AGE

      This ugly old crone—

      Every beauty she had

      When a maid, when a maid.

      Her beautiful eyes,

      Too youthful, too wise,

      Seemed ever to come

      To so lightless a home,

      Cold and dull as a stone.

      And her cheeks—who would guess

      Cheeks cadaverous as this

      Once with colours were gay

      As the flower on its spray?

      Who would ever believe

      Aught could bring one to grieve

      So much as to make

      Lips bent for love's sake

      So thin and so grey?

      O Youth, come away!

      As she asks in her lone,

      This old, desolate crone.

      She loves us no more;

      She is too old to care

      For the charms that of yore

      Made her body so fair.

      Past repining, past care,

      She lives but to bear

      One or two fleeting years

      Earth's indifference: her tears

      Have lost now their heat;

      Her hands and her feet

      Now shake but to be

      Shed as leaves from a tree;

      And her poor heart beats on

      Like a sea—the storm gone.

      THE GLIMPSE

      Art thou asleep? or have thy wings

      Wearied of my unchanging skies?

      Or, haply, is it fading dreams

          Are in my eyes?

      Not even an echo in my heart

      Tells me the courts thy feet trod last,

      Bare as a leafless wood it is,

          The summer past.

      My inmost mind is like a book

      The reader dulls with lassitude,

      Wherein the same old lovely words

          Sound poor and rude.

      Yet through this vapid surface, I

      Seem to

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