Walter De la Mare

“ See, now, this filigree: ’tis snow,
Shaped, in the void, of heavenly dew;
On winds of space like flower to blow
In a wilderness of blue.
Black are those pines. The utter cold
Hath frozen to silence the birds’ green woods.
Rime hath ensteeled the wormless mould,
A vacant quiet broods.
Lo, this entranced thing!—a breath
Of life that bids Man’s heart to crave
Still for perfection: ere fall death,
And earth shut in his grave.
FIRST STEPS.
FLOTSAM
Screamed the far sea-mew. ”

“ The voyagers of the World with sail and heavy oar,
Have sought thy shrine.
Beauty inexorable hath lured them on:
Remote unnamed stars enclustering gleam—
Burn in thy flowered locks, though creeping daybreak wan
Prove thee but dream.
Noonday to night the enigma of thine eyes
Frets with desire their travel-wearied brain,
Till in the vast of dark the ice-cold moon arise
And pour them peace again;
And with malign mirage uprears an isle
Of fountain and palm, and courts of jasmine and rose,
Whence far decoy of siren throats their souls beguile,
And maddening fragrance flows. ”

“ Of squalling trumpets clots the air.
And, flocking out, streams up the rout;
And lilies nod to velvet’s swish;
And peacocks prim on gilded dish,
Vast pies thick-glazed, and gaping fish,
Towering confections crisp as ice,
Jellies aglare like cockatrice,
With thousand savours tongues entice. ”