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Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour
Walter de La Mare
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Walter de La Mare
Age: 83 †
Born: 1873
Born: April 25
Died: 1956
Died: June 22
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Writer
Charlton
London
Walter Ramal
Walter John de la Mare
Hour
Hours
Lasts
Last
Look
Looks
Every
Slumber
Things
Lovely
More quotes by Walter de La Mare
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
The sandy cat by the Farmer's chair Mews at his knee for dainty fare Old Rover in his moss-greened house Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse. In the dewy fields the cattle lie Chewing the cud 'neath a fading sky Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.
Walter de La Mare
When I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more assail mine eyes.
Walter de La Mare
His are the quiet steeps of dreamland, The waters of no-more-pain His ram's bell rings 'neath an arch of stars, Rest, rest, and rest again.
Walter de La Mare
Three jolly huntsmen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.
Walter de La Mare
What lovely things Thy hand hath made.
Walter de La Mare
Do diddle di do, Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday.
Walter de La Mare
Once a man strays out of the common herd, he's more likely to meet wolves in the thickets than angels.
Walter de La Mare
And some win peace who spend The skill of words to sweeten despair Of finding consolation where Life has but one dark end.
Walter de La Mare
Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
Walter de La Mare
What is the world, O soldiers? It is I, I, this incessant snow, This northern sky.
Walter de La Mare
But beauty vanishes beauty passes However rare rare it be And when I crumble, who will remember This lady of the West Country?
Walter de La Mare
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon.
Walter de La Mare
As soon as they're out of your sight, you are out of their mind.
Walter de La Mare
Oh, pity the poor glutton Whose troubles all begin In struggling on and on to turn What's out into what's in.
Walter de La Mare
The only catalogue of this world's goods that really counts is that which we keep in the silence of the mind.
Walter de La Mare
An hour's terror is better than a lifetime of timidity.
Walter de La Mare
We wake and whisper awhile, But, the day gone by, Silence and sleep like fields Of amaranth lie.
Walter de La Mare
All but blind In his chambered hole Gropes for worms The four-clawed Mole.
Walter de La Mare
Without imagination of the one kind or of the other, mortal existence is indeed a dreary and prosaic business... Illumined by the imagination, our life, whatever its defeats - is a never-ending unforeseen strangeness and adventure and mystery.
Walter de La Mare