The Titmouse

If you would happy company win,
Dangle a palm-nut from a tree,
Idly in green to sway and spin,
Its snow-pulped kernel for bait; and see,
    A nimble titmouse enter in.

Out of earth's vast unknown of air,
Out of all summer, from wave to wave,
He'll perch, and prank his feathers fair,
Jangle a glass-clear wildering stave,
    And take his commons there,

This tiny son of life; this spright,
By momentary Human sought,
Plume will his wing in the dappling light,
Clash timbrel shrill and gay,
And into time's enormous nought,
    Sweet-fed, will flit away.

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

Iago

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

The Little Old Cupid

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

Fear

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

Invocation

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 Little Bird

My dear Daddie bought a mansion
    For to bring my Mammie to,
In a hat with a long feather,
    And a trailing gown of blue;
And a company of fiddlers
    And a rout of maids and men
Danced the clock round to the morning,
    In a gay house-warming then.
And when all the guests were gone, and
    All was still as still can be,
In from the dark ivy hopped a
    Wee small bird: and that was Me.

Walter De La Mare

The Titmouse

You shall not be overbold
When you deal with arctic cold,
As late I found my lukewarm blood
Chilled wading in the snow-choked wood.
How should I fight? my foeman fine
Has million arms to one of mine:
East, west, for aid I looked in vain,
East, west, north, south, are his domain.
Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home;
Must borrow his winds who there would come.
Up and away for life! be fleet!--
The frost-king ties my fumbling feet,
Sings in my ears, my hands are stones,
Curdles the blood to the marble bones,
Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense,
And hems in life with narrowing fence.
Well, in this broad bed lie and sleep,--
The punctual stars will vigil keep,--
Embalmed by purifying cold;
The winds shall sing their dead-march old,
...

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tit For Tat

Have you been catching of fish, Tom Noddy?
    Have you snared a weeping hare?
Have you whistled, 'No Nunny,'and gunned a poor bunny,
    Or a blinded bird of the air?

Have you trod like a murderer through the green woods,
    Through the dewy deep dingles and glooms,
While every small creature screamed shrill to Dame Nature,
    'He comes - and he comes!'?

Wonder I very much do, Tom Noddy,
    If ever, when you are a-roam,
An Ogre from space will stoop a lean face
    And lug you home:

Lug you home over his fence, Tom Noddy,
    Of thorn-sticks nine yards high,
With your bent knees strung round his old iron gun
    And your head dan-dangling by:

And hang you up stiff on a hook, Tom Noddy,
    From a stone-cold pantry shelf,
W...

Walter De La Mare

The Cockerel, The Cat, And The Young Mouse.

^[1]

A youthful mouse, not up to trap,
Had almost met a sad mishap.
The story hear him thus relate,
With great importance, to his mother: -
'I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate,
And off was trotting on another,
Like some young rat with nought to do
But see things wonderful and new,
When two strange creatures came in view.
The one was mild, benign, and gracious;
The other, turbulent, rapacious,
With voice terrific, shrill, and rough,
And on his head a bit of stuff
That look'd like raw and bloody meat,
Raised up a sort of arms, and beat
The air, as if he meant to fly,
And bore his plumy tail on high.'

A cock, that just began to crow,
As if some nondescript,
From far New Holland shipp'd,
Was what our mousling...

Jean de La Fontaine

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

The Gnomies

As I lay awake in the white moonlight,
I heard a sweet singing in the wood -
        'Out of bed,
        Sleepyhead,
        Put your white foot now,
        Here are we,
        'Neath the tree,
        Singing round the root now!'

I looked out of window in the white moonlight,
The trees were like snow in the wood -
        'Come away
        Child and play,
        Light wi' the gnomies;
        In a mound,
        Green and round,
        That's where their home is!
        'Honey sweet,
        Curds to eat,
        Cream and frumènty,
        Shells and beads,
        Poppy seeds,
        You shall have plenty.'

But soon as I stooped in the dim moonlight
To put on my stocking and my shoe,
The sweet, swe...

Walter De La Mare