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We wake and whisper awhile, But, the day gone by, Silence and sleep like fields Of amaranth lie.

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
Lying
Like
Awhile
Whisper
Wake
Fields
Silence
Sleep
Gone

More quotes by Walter de La Mare

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What is the world, O soldiers? It is I, I, this incessant snow, This northern sky.
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Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
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A face peered. All the grey night In chaos of vacancy shone Nought but vast Sorrow was there The sweet cheat gone.
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As soon as they're out of your sight, you are out of their mind.
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So, blind to Someone I must be.
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Three jolly huntsmen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.
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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.
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Very old are the woods And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are-- Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.
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Now that cleverness was the fashion most people were clever - even perfect fools and cleverness after all was often only a bore: all head and no body
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God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.
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But beauty vanishes beauty passes However rare rare it be And when I crumble, who will remember This lady of the West Country?
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An hour's terror is better than a lifetime of timidity.
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Once a man strays out of the common herd, he's more likely to meet wolves in the thickets than angels.
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Oh, pity the poor glutton Whose troubles all begin In struggling on and on to turn What's out into what's in.
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What a haunting, inescapable riddle life was.
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A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws and silver eye And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.
Walter de La Mare
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Do diddle di do, Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday.
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A lost but happy dream may shed its light upon our waking hours, and the whole day may be infected with the gloom of a dreary or sorrowful one yet of neither may we be able to recover a trace.
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It was a pity thoughts always ran the easiest way, like water in old ditches.
Walter de La Mare
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Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.
Walter de La Mare