A Poem by Walter De La Mare
With changeful sound life beats upon the ear;
Yet striving for release
The most delighting string’s
The happiest throat’s
Most easeful, lovely notes
Fall back into a veiling silentness.
Even ‘mid the rumour of a moving host,
Blackening the clear green earth,
Vainly ‘gainst that thin wall
The trumpets call,
Or with loud hum
The smoke-bemuffled drum:
From that high quietness no reply comes forth.
When all at peace, two friends at ease alone
Talk out their hearts, – yet still,
Between the grace-notes of
The voice of love
From each to each
Trembles a rarer speech,
And with its presence every pause doth fill.
Unmoved it broods, this all-encompassing hush
Of one who stooping near,
No smallest stir will make
Our fear to wake;
But yet intent
Upon some mystery bent,
Hearkens the lightest word we say, or hear.