Walter de la Mare

Back to William H. Davies
Forward to John Drinkwater

Music

When music sounds, gone is the earth I know,

And all her lovely things even lovelier grow;

Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees

Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.

When music sounds, out of the water rise

Naiads whose beauty dims my waking eyes,

Rapt in strange dreams burns each enchanted face,

With solemn echoing stirs their dwelling-place.

When music sounds, all that I was I am

Ere to this haunt of brooding dust I came;

And from Time's woods break into distant song

The swift-winged hours, as I hasten along.

Wanderers

Wide are the meadows of night,

And daisies are shinng there,

Tossing their lovely dews,

Lustrous and fair;

And through these sweet fields go,

Wanderers amid the stars --

Venus, Mercury, Uranus, Neptune,

Saturn, Jupiter, Mars.

'Tired in their silver, they move,

And circling, whisper and say,

Fair are the blossoming meads of delight

Through which we stray.

Melmillo

Three and thirty birds there stood

In an elder in a wood;

Called Melmillo -- flew off three,

Leaving thirty in the tree;

Called Melmillo -- nine now gone,

And the boughs held twenty-one;

Called Melmillo -- and eighteen

Left but three to nod and preen;

Called Melmillo -- three--two--one--

Now of birds were feathers none.

Then stole slim Me.millo in

To that wood all dusk and green,

And with lean long palms outspread

Softly a strange dance did tread;

Not a note of music she

Had for echoing company;

All the birds were flown to rest

In the hollow of her breast;

In the wood -- thorn, elder willow --

Danced alone -- lone danced Melmillo.

Alexander

It was the Great Alexander,

Capped with a golden helm,

Sate in the ages, in his floating ship,

In a dead calm.

Voices of sea-maids singing

Wandered across the deep:

The sailors labouring on their oars

Rowed as in sleep.

All the high pomp of Asia,

Charmed by that siren lay,

Out of their weary and dreaming minds

Faded away.

Like a bold boy sate their Captain,

His glamour withered and gone,

In the souls of his brooding mariners,

While the song pined on.

Time like a falling dew,

Life like the scene of a dream

Laid between slumber and slumber

Only did seem. . . .

O Alexander, then,

In all us mortals too,

Wax not so overbold

On the wave dark-blue!

Come the calm starry night,

Who then will hear

Aught save the singing

Of the sea-maids clear?

The Mocking Fairy

'Won't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'

Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding in the garden;

'Can't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?'

Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden;

But the air was still, the cherry boughs were still,

And the ivy-tod neath the empty sill,

And never from her window looked out Mrs. Gill

On the Fairy shrilly mocking in the garden.

'What have they done with you, you poor Mrs. Gill?'

Quoth the Fairy brightly glancing in the garden;

'Where have they hidden you, you poor old Mrs. Gill?'

Quoth the Fairy dancing lightly in the garden;

But night's faint veil now wrapped the hill,

Stark 'neath the stars stood the dead-still Mill,

And out of her cold cottage never answered Mrs. Gill

The Fairy mimbling, mambling in the garden.

Full Moon

One night as Dick lay half asleep,

Into his drowsy eyes

A great still light began to creep

From out the silent skies.

It was the lovely moon's, for when

He raised his dreamy head,

Her surge of silver filled the pane

And streamed across his bed.

So, for a while, each gazed at each --

Dick and the solemn moon --

Till, climbing slowly on her way,

She vanished, and was gone.

Off the Ground

Three jolly Farmers

Once bet a pound

Each dance the others would

Off the ground.

Out of their coats

They slipped right soon,

And neat and nicesome

Put each his shoon.

One--Two--Three!

And away they go,

Not too fast,

And not too slow;

Out from the elm-tree's

Noonday shadow,

Into the sun

And across the meadow.

Past the schoolroom,

With knees well bent,

Fingers a flicking,

They dancing went.

Up sides and over,

And round and round,

They crossed click-clacking

The Parish bound;

By Tupman's meadow

They did their mile,

Tee-to-tum

On a three-barred stile.

Then straight through Whipham,

Downhill to Week,

Footing it lightsome,

But not too quick,

Up fields to Watchet

And on through Wye,

Till seven fine churches

They'd seen slip by --

Seven fine churches,

And five old mills,

Farms in the valley,

And sheep on the hills;

Old Man's Acre

And Dead Man's Pool

All left behind,

As they danced through Wool.

And Wool gone by,

Like tops that seem

To spin in sleep

They danced in dream:

Withy -- Wellover --

Wassop -- Wo --

Like an old clock

Their heels did go.

A league and a league

And a league they went,

And not one weary,

And not one spent.

And log, and behold!

Past Willow-cum-Leigh

Stretched with its waters

The great green sea.

Says Farmer Bates,

'I puffs and I blows,

What's under the water,

Why, no man knows !'

Says Farmer Giles,

'My mind comes weak,

And a good man drownded

Is far to seek. '

But Farmer Turvey,

On twirling toes,

Up's with his gaiters,

And in he goes:

Down where the mermaids

Pluck and play

On their twangling harps

In a sea-green day;

Down where the mermaids

Finned and fair,

Sleek with their combs

Their yellow hair. . . .

Bates and Giles --

On the shingle sat,

Gazing at Turvey's

Floating hat.

But never a ripple

Nor bubble told

Where he was supping

Off plates of gold.

Never an echo

Rilled through the sea

Of the feasting and dancing

And minstrelsy.

They called -- called -- called;

Came no reply:

Nought but the ripples'

Sandy sigh.

Then glum and silent

They sat instead,

Vacantly brooding

On home and bed,

Till both together

Stood up and said: --

'Us knows not, dreams not,

Where you be,

Turvey, unless

In the deep blue sea;

But axcusing silver --

And it comes most willing --

Here's us two paying our forty shilling;

For it's sartin sure, Turvey,

Safe and sound,

You danced us a square, Turvey,

Off the ground. '

Back to William H. Davies
Forward to John Drinkwater