Quote

What is the world, O soldiers? It is I, I, this incessant snow, This northern sky.

Walter de La Mare

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Northern
Soldiers
Snow
Soldier
Sky
World
Incessant

More quotes by Walter de La Mare

Image
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
Image
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
Image
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
Image
After all, what is every man? A horde of ghosts - like a Chinese nest of boxes - oaks that were acorns that were oaks. Death lies behind us, not in front - in our ancestors, back and back until.
Walter de La Mare
Image
An hour's terror is better than a lifetime of timidity.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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
Image
What lovely things Thy hand hath made.
Walter de La Mare
Image
Too late for fruit, too soon for flowers.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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.
Walter de La Mare
Image
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon.
Walter de La Mare
Image
All but blind In his chambered hole Gropes for worms The four-clawed Mole.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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
Walter de La Mare
Image
Poor tired Tim! It's sad for him He lags the long bright morning through, Ever so tired of nothing to do.
Walter de La Mare
Image
Three jolly huntsmen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.
Walter de La Mare
Image
He got out of bed and peeped through the blinds. To the east and opposite to him gardens and an apple-orchard lay, and there in strange liquid tranquility hung the morning star, and rose, rilling into the dusk of night the first grey of dawn. The street beneath its autumn leaves was vacant, charmed, deserted.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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
Image
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
Image
What a haunting, inescapable riddle life was.
Walter de La Mare
Image
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