#walter de la mare

[enchantedbook]

From Walter de la Mare's 'Down Adown Derry, a book of Fairy Poems' , illustrated by Dorothy Lathrop, 1922

#Dorothy Lathrop #down adown derry #walter de la mare #Illustration #fairies

[lepetitdragonvert]

Songs of Childhood by Walter de la Mare

Longmans, Green & Co

1923

Artist : Estella Canziani

#walter de la mare #walter ramal #1923 #estella canziani

[finnlongman]

Because I don't have a particularly visual imagination, I don't find it very easy to imagine a "happy place" or a calming situation when I'm feeling anxious. I need words for my brain to gnaw on, instead. So I decided I would try to memorise some poems, to give me some words to play with, and I'd start with one I could already remember part of – The Listeners by Walter de la Mare.

I haven't read this poem in years, but I used to have it on my wall as a child, and it never stops fascinating me. Since it's in the public domain, here it is:

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,

Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses

Of the forest’s ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,

Above the Traveller’s head:

And he smote upon the door again a second time;

‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;

No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,

Where he stood perplexed and still.

But only a host of phantom listeners

That dwelt in the lone house then

Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight

To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,

That goes down to the empty hall,

Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken

By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,

Their stillness answering his cry,

While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,

’Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even

Louder, and lifted his head:—

‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word,’ he said.

Never the least stir made the listeners,

Though every word he spake

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house

From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,

And the sound of iron on stone,

And how the silence surged softly backward,

When the plunging hoofs were gone.

I love this poem because it leaves me with so many questions. Who are the listeners? To whom did the traveller make a promise? And the rhymes and rhythm of it are tasty, too. Lots to chew on with this one.

#poetry #walter de la mare #the listeners

[littleflowerfaith]

For beauty with sorrow

Is a burden hard to be borne:

The evening light on the foam, and the swans, there;

That music, remote, forlorn.

- Walter De La Mare

#walter de la mare #poetry #english poem #english literature #english poetry #english countryside #black swan #swan #1800s #19th century literature #cottagecore #cottage vibes #mine #christian blog #farm life #farmhouse #country life #countryside #country #warm and cosy #winter #classic literature #dark academia #light academia #romantic academia #academia aesthetic #original photography #middle earth #lotr aesthetic #slow living

[thebeautifulbook]

PEACOCK PIE: A Book of Rhymes by Walter de la Mare. (New York: Holt, 1941) Illustrations by W. Heath Robinson.

source

#beautiful books #book blog #books books books #book cover #books #vintage books #illustrated book #children’s book #w. heath robinson #walter de la mare #poetry

[gwydionmisha]

November by Walter de la Mare

There is wind where the rose was, Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o'er the steep Grey skies where the lark was. Nought warm where your hand was, Nought gold where your hair was, But phantom, forlorn, Beneath the thorn, Your ghost where your face was. Cold wind where your voice was, Tears, tears where my heart was, And ever with me, Child, ever with me, Silence where hope was.

#November #Walter de la Mare #Poem #Poetry

[arinewman7]

Illustration by Dorothy Lathrop

for "Down-Adown-Derry" by Walter de la Mare, 1922

#Dorothy Lathrop #art #artist #illustrator #illustration #for Down-Adown-Derry #Walter de la Mare #1922 #Illustration by Dorothy Lathrop

[houseflyy]

    How large unto the tiny fly         Must little things appear! -      A rosebud like a feather bed,         Its prickle like a spear;

     A dewdrop like a looking-glass,         A hair like golden wire;      The smallest grain of mustard-seed         As fierce as coals of fire;

     A loaf of bread, a lofty hill;         A wasp, a cruel leopard;      And specks of salt as bright to see         As lambkins to a shepherd.

— “The Fly” by Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)

#flies. #queue. #the fly #walter de la mare #when a piece of writing looks at how little things look big to a little creature then ohhh i like it a lot #the world can be so different and beautiful!

[innervoiceartblog]

The Hare

by Walter De La Mare

In the black furrow of a field

I saw an old witch-hare this night;

And she cocked a lissome ear,

And she eyed the moon so bright,

And she nibbled of the green;

And I whispered "Wh-s-st! witch-hare,"

Away like a ghostie o'er the field

She fled, and left the moonlight there.

Art by Maggie Vanderwalle

#The Hare #Walter De La Mare #poem #Hare #art and soul #Maggie Vanderwalle #once upon a time #moon #moonlight #flight #broom

[theweeowlart]

One of my favourite songs has just been played on Radio 3, 'King David' by Herbert Howells. A new recording with Iestyn Davies (counter tenor) . Beautiful song, well worth a listen. Poetry used for the song was by Walter De la Mare.

King David

King David was a sorrowful man: No cause for his sorrow had he; And he called for the music of a hundred harps To ease his melancholy

They played till they all fell silent: Played and play sweet did they; But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David They could not charm away

He rose; and in his garden Walked by the moon alone A nightingale hidden in a cypress tree Jargoned on and on

King David lifted his sad eyes Into the dark-boughed tree -- "Tell me, thou little bird that singest Who taught my grief to thee?"

But the bird in no-wise heeded; And the king in the cool of the moon Hearkened to the nightingale's sorrowfulness Till all his own was gone

#Herbert Howells #Howells #King David #sorrow #nightingale #Walter De la Mare #Radio 3

[nijinokanatani]

“Down-adown-derry; a book of fairy poems”

by Walter De la Mare(1873-1956), illustration by Dorothy Lathrop(1891-1980). Published in 1922.

#dorothy lathrop #walter de la mare

[detroitlib]

Walter De La Mare. "The Keys of Morning." From The Listeners.

#walter de la mare #the keys of morning #the listeners #dead #death #witch #witches #poetry #poem #poems #book #books #old books #detroit public library

[adabelladona]

     Red blood out and black blood in,

     Know I as soon as dark's dreams begin

     My Nannie says I'm a child of sin -

     How did I choose me my witchcraft kin!

     Snared is my heart in a nightmare's gin;

     Never from terror I out may win;

     So dawn and dusk I pine, peak, thin,

     Scarcely beknowing t'other from which -

     My great grandam - She was a Witch.

The little creature by Walter de la Mare

#walter de la mare #witchcraft #witch aesthetic #poetry #gothic literature

[bitter1stuff]

Busting out some old favorites for the season. For RLS, won't probably be reading Jekyll and Hyde, but the backup Suicide Club stories, Thrawn Janet, and Markheim. The Lord Dunsany stuff is always great. And then there's the always problematic Lovecraft, but he does set a mood. Ooh! Forgot I have an unread Walter De La Mare collected poems, and an Algernon Blackwood that I've been too scared to read becuase I'm afraid it's colored with arsenic green. If my future posts read like I'm wasting away into a laudanum delerium, you'll know which one I chose.

#robert louis stevenson #lord dunsany #hp lovecraft #walter de la mare #algernon blackwood #halloween reading #spooky stuff #coughs into handkerchief and sees blood

[corallapis]

#d. h. lawrence #siegfried sassoon #robert graves #walter de la mare #john masefield #rupert brooke #georgian poetry #eddie marsh #art #ephemera #🕰️

[nayialovecat]

Next question from Tito, my bad translation is here: so maybe like this ideal beauty choose your target yourself, whether to H or to S

—————

She asks about spiders' ideal of beauty? The answer simple. The rounder lady spider is, the more beautiful is she. Spiders love round shapes. The males are not round, no, but they have fur that gives the appearance of roundness. That's why fluffing it up during the mating rituals is very important! A circle is a perfect shape, right? Spiders know that the circle is ideal and ideal is beauty.

But there is still a question: why circles are perfect and beautiful. That answer also is simple and obvious to any spider:

the Moon is round! And the Moon is the most beautiful thing in the whole world! All spiders worship the Moon and she is very important to them!

And because the spiders, as faithful followers of Shamura and the Purple Crown, also greatly value wisdom and the written word, they created many poems and proses about the splendor and greatness of the Moon. When Helob was still Shamura's vessel and had access to their great libraries, read many beautiful works, yes… some he learned by heart…

And this… this one is one of my favourites. Beauty poem about the beauty Moon. And that's what ideal beauty is.

* fragment of "Silver" - an existing poem by Walter de la Mare, an English poet who lived at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries.

#asknayia #askhelob #Helob the Spider #the Moon #Walter de la Mare #I didn't know Walter de la Mare until today #but maybe I'll change it? #Cult of the Lamb #Cult of the Wrath