Alas

Walter de la Mare One moment take thy rest. Out of mere nought in space Beauty moved human breast To tell in this far face A dream in noonday seen, Never to fade or pass; A breath-time’s mute delight; A joy in flight: The aught desire doth mean Sighing, Alas!

Sunset

Great carnal mountains crouching in the cloud That marrieth the young earth with a ring, Yet still its thoughts builds heavenward, whence spring Wee villages of vapor, sunset-proud.— And to the meanest door hastes one pure-browed White-fingered star, a little, childish thing, The busy needle of her light to bring, And stitch, and stitch, upon… Read More Sunset