Poems Of Walter De La Mare

Let’s talk about Walter de la Mare. He’s that English poet who wrote about spooky things—but in a cozy, whimsical way. Think of him as the gothic storyteller who hands you a cup of tea while whispering about ghosts.

The Man Who Loved Silence

De la Mare was obsessed with quiet. He wrote poems about listening, about things you hear in the dark. His famous line? “Slowly, silently, now the moon / Walks the night in her silver shoon.” Silver shoon? That’s just “shoes” in old English, but it sounds magical.

He spent decades writing for children—but his poems are terrifying. One classic, “The Listeners,” features a lone traveler knocking on a mossy door. No one answers. Just silence. Creepy? Yes. Fun? Absolutely.

Quirky Facts That Make You Smile

Walter de la Mare worked at an oil company for 20 years. Imagine writing ghost poems between spreadsheets. He also hated loud noises—once fleeing a room because someone clapped too hard. He was a professional at being spooked.

He wrote a poem called “The Song of the Mad Prince.” It’s about a prince who talks to a bird and a beetle. It’s weird, sad, and hilarious. He also invented words, like “seldomly” and “chillest.” Grammar cops? He had none.

Why His Poems Feel Like a Secret

De la Mare’s poems are short—like a whispered rumor. “What is the world, O soldiers? / It is I: / I, this incessant snow.” You read it and think, “Wait, what?” Exactly. He wanted you to feel curious, not smart.

The Rainbow Poem by Walter De La Mare

He loved animals. His poem “The Owl” starts: “The owl who sits in the hollow tree / Calls to me, calls to me.” Simple, right? But then he adds a ghostly rider on a horse. Suddenly, it’s a tiny horror movie.

The Funniest Detail

De la Mare often wrote about silver—silver moons, silver fish, silver twigs. One critic said he had a “silver fetish.” He wasn’t offended. He just wrote another poem about a silver chair. Imagine a poet who only writes about one color. That’s dedication.

He also wrote a poem from a turnip’s perspective. Yes, a turnip. It’s called “The Turnip.” The turnip dreams of being a rose. You can’t make this up. It’s absurd, charming, and deeply human.

The Complete Poems of Walter de la Mare by Walter de la Mare

How to Read Him Like a Pro

Don’t analyze his poems. Just read them aloud—in the dark, if you’re brave. His lines are musical. Words like “lute” and “briar” bounce off your tongue. You’ll feel like a Victorian ghost, but in a fun way.

Try his poem “Alone.” It’s about a child seeing a shadow on the wall. It’s only 14 lines. You’ll finish it and think, “Did I just get spooked by a shadow?” Yes. And you’ll love it.

Why He Still Matters

De la Mare died in 1956, but his poems feel timeless. They remind us that mystery is fun. That being scared can be cozy. That a turnip can have dreams. So next time you hear a creak at night, smile. Walter de la Mare would approve.

Go read “The Listeners” right now. Just five minutes. You’ll be hooked. And if anyone asks why you’re grinning in the dark, tell them you’re listening for a ghost. That’s the whole point.