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

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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