The Midden's Song

"Bubble, Bubble,
    Swim to see
Oh, how beautiful
    I be.

"Fishes, Fishes,
    Finned and fine,
What's your gold
    Compared with mine?

"Why, then, has
    Wise Tishnar made
One so lovely,
    Yet so sad?

"Lone am I,
    And can but make
A little song,
    For singing's sake."

Walter De La Mare

Walter De La Mare was an English poet, short story writer, and novelist, best remembered for his works for children and his poem "The Listeners". Born in 1873 in Charlton, Kent, De La Mare's unique blend of haunting, dreamlike imagery and masterful command of language earned him a lasting place in English literature. He was awarded the Order of Merit in 1953, and his works continue to be celebrated for their ethereal and evocative quality.

Walter De La Mare

Even In The Grave

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

Song Of Enchantment

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

Faithless

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

The Death-Dream

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Mermaids

Sand, sand; hills of sand;
    And the wind where nothing is
Green and sweet of the land;
    No grass, no trees,
    No bird, no butterfly,
But hills, hills of sand,
    And a burning sky.

Sea, sea, mounds of the sea,
    Hollow, and dark, and blue,
Flashing incessantly
    The whole sea through;
    No flower, no jutting root,
Only the floor of the sea,
    With foam afloat.

Blow, blow, winding shells;
    And the watery fish,
Deaf to the hidden bells,
    In the water splash;
No streaming gold, no eyes,
    Watching along the waves,
But far-blown shells, faint bells,
    From the darkling caves.

Walter De La Mare

The Shimmer Of The Sound

In the long shimmer of the Sound
May I some day be laughing found,
Part of its restless to and fro,
A humble worker of the tides
That round the sleepless planet flow,
And in the rock and drift of things -

(O how the sea-weed sways and swings!
Is it her hair - has she been found
In the long shimmer of the Sound!)

Do some small task I do not know -
O maybe help the mussel grow,
Or tint the shell-imprisoned pearl -

A mute companion of the waves
That toss within their moonlit graves -
Is it a king, or but a girl?

And, all the while, she sings and sings,
And waves her wild white hands with glee,
Mysterious sister of the world,
That singing water called the sea.

(O tell me was this sea-weed found
In the lon...

Richard Le Gallienne

Down-Adown-Derry
Down-adown-derry,
Sweet Annie Maroon,
Gathering daisies
In the meadows of Doone,
Hears a shrill piping,
Elflike and free,
Where the waters go brawling
In rills to the sea;
Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
Sweet Annie Maroon,
Through the green grasses
Peeps softly; and soon
Spies under green willows
A fairy whose song
Like the smallest of bubbles
Floats bobbing along;
Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
Her cheeks were like wine,
Her eyes in her wee face
Like water-sparks shine,
Her niminy fingers
Her sleek tresses preen,
The which in the combing
She peeps out between;
Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-...
Walter De La Mare

The Sunken Garden
Speak not - whisper not;
Here bloweth thyme and bergamot;
Softly on the evening hour,
Secret herbs their spices shower.
Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Lean-stalked, purple lavender;
Hides within her bosom, too,
All her sorrows, bitter rue.

Breathe not - trespass not;
Of this green and darkling spot,
Latticed from the moon's beams,
Perchance a distant dreamer dreams;
Perchance upon its darkening air,
The unseen ghosts of children fare,
Faintly swinging, sway and sweep,
Like lovely sea-flowers in its deep;
While, unmoved, to watch and ward,
Amid its gloomed and daisied sward,
Stands with bowed and dewy head
That one little leaden Lad.
Walter De La Mare

Song Of Enchantment
A Song of Enchantment I sang me there,
In a green - green wood, by waters fair,
Just as the words came up to me
I sang it under the wildwood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low,
Watching the wild birds come and go;
No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen
Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came; silence came;
The planet of Evening's silver flame;
By darkening paths I wandered through
Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone
Of the song I sang as I sat alone,
Ages and ages have fallen on me -
On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.
Walter De La Mare

The Isle Of Lone
Three dwarfs there were which lived on an isle,
And the name of the isle was Lone,
And the names of the dwarfs were Alliolyle,
Lallerie, Muziomone.

Alliolyle was green of een,
Lallerie light of locks,
Muziomone was mild of mien,
As ewes in April flocks.

Their house was small and sweet of the sea,
And pale as the Malmsey wine;
Their bowls were three, and their beds were three,
And their nightcaps white were nine.

Their beds were of the holly-wood,
Their combs of the tortoiseshell,
Their mirrors clear as wintry flood,
Frozen dark and snell.

So each would lie on his plumpy pillow,
The moon for company,
And hear the parrot scream to the billow,
And the billow roar reply. -

Su...
Walter De La Mare