Walter de la Mare

Here you will find the Poem Ghost of poet Walter de la Mare


'Who knocks? ' 'I, who was beautiful 
Beyond all dreams to restore, 
I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither, 
And knock on the door.' 

'Who speaks? ' 'I -- once was my speech 
Sweet as the bird's on the air, 
When echo lurks by the waters to heed; 
'Tis I speak thee fair.' 

'Dark is the hour!' 'Aye, and cold.' 
'Lone is my house.' 'Ah, but mine? ' 
'Sight, touch, lips, eyes gleamed in vain.' 
'Long dead these to thine.' 

Silence. Still faint on the porch 
Brake the flames of the stars. 
In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand 
Over keys, bolts, and bars. 

A face peered. All the grey night 
In chaos of vacancy shone; 
Nought but vast sorrow was there -- 
The sweet cheat gone.