(Poem #1024) Faint Music
The meteor's arc of quiet; a voiceless rain; The mist's mute communing with a stagnant moat; The sigh of a flower that has neglected lain; That bell's unuttered note; A hidden self rebels, its slumber broken; Love secret as crystal forms within the womb; The heart may as faithfully beat, the vow unspoken; All sounds to silence come.
All good poetry is magical in some way, but de la Mare's poems have a _specific_ kind of magic, instantly recognizable, yet near impossible to paraphrase or even parody. Certainly the precise blend of delicate phrasing and carefully-chosen subject material that characterizes his art may strike one as repetitive , but as long as it works (and work it does, most of the time), who am I to cavil? thomas.  I'm not sure I could read an entire volume of de la Mare's poetry uninterrupted, but I do enjoy dipping into his work every now and then. [Minstrels Links] Walter de la Mare: Poem #2, The Listeners Poem #272, Napoleon Poem #483, Brueghel's Winter Poem #725, Silver Poem #1024, Faint Music