a not so well known one:
.
.
Ever, ever
Stir and shiver
The reeds and rushes
By the river:
Ever, ever,
As if in dream,
The lone moon's silver
Sleeks the stream.
What old sorrow,
What lost love,
Moon, reeds, rushes,
Dream you of?
Stir and shiver
The reeds and rushes
By the river:
Ever, ever,
As if in dream,
The lone moon's silver
Sleeks the stream.
What old sorrow,
What lost love,
Moon, reeds, rushes,
Dream you of?
(but I know you like moons and reed banks as much as I do! and quite possibly rushes too)
.
.
and the popular one, about keeping promises:
.
.
"Is anybody there?" said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence chomped 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 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 gray 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 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:
Aye, 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.
Walter de la Mare
in this one I love the phrases "the stillness answering his cry" and "how the silence surged softly backward"
and the whole thing makes me think of blogging and lurkers (especially the person who works for Credit Suisse. . . are you really allowed to read blogs at work?)
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence chomped 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 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 gray 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 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:
Aye, 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.
Walter de la Mare
in this one I love the phrases "the stillness answering his cry" and "how the silence surged softly backward"
and the whole thing makes me think of blogging and lurkers (especially the person who works for Credit Suisse. . . are you really allowed to read blogs at work?)
I'm going off
to search for some images now,
to brighten the poems up a little,
I like images. . .
but I won't find
any
as beautiful as mig's!
.
.
ps mig, if only this gal were blonde. . .
4 comments:
......wow....
I need to broaden my reading, apparently.
What a cool piece.
(both of 'em actually)
I'll await the photo of rushes and reeds..*waiting patiently*
Oh I'm so glad I did a last check tonight! That's beautiful and I've never come across it before. And I've always loved the De La Mare, how not?
When we were in the Amazon rain forest, we heard a rainstorm approaching and I thought of these exact words (but in reverse as it was a thunderous wind surging softly towards us). He had a way with images and sounds.
Thank you so much :)
Oh and I'll keep an eye out for blondes in bottles whenever I go flood hunting. But don't you get washed out to sea!
xxx
mig while I was looking for images of reeds and rushes, I got distracted by thatching sites!
;-)
mel he's most well known for his children's poetry, I loved him in my childhood before I got into Shakespeare and Japanese poetry and ee cummings - but some phrases just stick in your head!
LOL! They are a bit distracting I suppose and of course they do come up if you search for reed :)
From the sublimely romantic to the er, practical romantic? Is that possible?
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