Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Solitude - Poem By Walter De La Mare


       - By Walter De La Mare

Ghosts there must be with me in this old house,
Deepening its midnight as the clock beats on.
Whence else upwelled - strange, sweet, yet ominous - 
That moment of happiness, and then was gone?

Nimbler than air-borne music, heart may call
A speechless message to the inward ear,
As secret even as that which then befell,
Yet nought that listening could make more clear.

Delicate, subtle senses, instant, fleet! - 
But oh, how near the verge at which they fail!
In vain, self hearkens for the fall of feet
Soft as its own may be, beyond the pale.

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