Monday, November 1, 2010

November by Walter de la Mare

There is wind where the rose was, 
Cold rain where sweet grass was, 
And clouds like sheep 
Stream o'er the steep 
Grey skies where the lark was. 

Nought warm where your hand was, 
Nought gold where your hair was, 
But phantom, forlorn, 
Beneath the thorn, 
Your ghost where your face was. 

Cold wind where your voice was, 
Tears, tears where my heart was, 
And ever with me, 
Child, ever with me, 
Silence where hope was. 

                                       Walter de la Mare 


  1. Walter de la Mare was one of the first poets I ever read as a child. Fell in love with poetry then.

    Love your pics, so pretty. :)

    Have a lovely day, :) T.

  2. This is lovely and a little sad...but then I saw that ripe tomato and I thought... tomato sandwiches!: )

  3. Well Laurel, the cherry tomatoes are feeding the birds! But you're right, it is a little sad.


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