Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1140

 WALTER DE LA MARE

Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house

From the one man left awake: A/, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,

And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward,

When the plunging hoofs were gone.

��Fare Well

I lie where shades of darkness Shall no more asbail mine eyes, Nor the rain make lamentation

When the wind sighs, How will fare the world whose wonder Was the very proof of me? Memory fades, must the remembered Perishing be?

Oh, when this my dust surrenders Hand, foot, lip, to dust again, May these loved and loving faces

Please other men' May the rusting harvest hedgerow Still the Traveller's Joy entwine, And as happy children gather

Posies once mine.

Look thy last on all things lovely,

Every hour. Let no night

Seal thy sense in deathly slumber

Till to delight

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