Walter De la Mare,
Collected poems, 1901-1918
(1920)
“ Where a Shade stands fo-rlorn from the cold of the earth. God knows I could not rest for one I still was thinking of; Like a rose sheathed in beauty her spirit was to me; Now out of unforgottenness a bitter draught I'm drinking of, 'Tis sad of such beauty unremembered to be. Men all all shades, O Woman. — Winds wist not of the way they blow. Apart from your kindness, life's at best but a snare. ”
