Who is Walter De La Mare

Walter John de la Mare (; 25 April 1873 – 22 June 1956) was an English poet, short story writer, and novelist. He is probably best remembered for his works for children, for his poem "The Listeners", and for a highly acclaimed selection of subtle psychological horror stories, amongst them "Seaton's Aunt" and "All Hallows".

In 1921, his novel Memoirs of a Midget won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for fiction, and his post-war Collected Stories for Children won the 1947 Carnegie Medal for British children's books.


De la Mare was born in Kent at 83, Maryon Road, Charlton (now part of the Royal Borough of Greenwich), partly descended from a family of French Huguenot silk merchants, and was educated at St Paul's Cathedral School. He was born to Ja...
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Walter De La Mare Poems

  • The Corner Stone
    Sterile these stones
    By time in ruin laid.
    Yet many a creeping thing
    Its haven has made...
  • The Keys Of Morning
    While at her bedroom window once,
    Learning her task for school,
    Little Louisa lonely sat
    In the morning clear and cool,...
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Top 10 most used topics by Walter De La Mare

Dust 2 Cold 2 Shadow 2 Small 1 Busy 1 Morning 1 Street 1 Door 1 Mind 1 Face 1

Walter De La Mare Quotes

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Melaniejaxn: and ere should wane the morning star, i'd don my robe and scimitar. and zebras seven should draw my car through tartary's dark glades. --walter de la mare
Richardprism: a robin by walter de la mare ghost-grey the fall of night, ice-bound the lane, lone in the dying light flits he again; lurking where shadows steal, perched in his coat of blood, man's homestead at his heel, death-still the wood. in "the living bestiary"
Richardprism: the snail by walter de la mare all day shut fast in whorled retreat you slumber where - no wild bird knows; while on your rounded roof-tree beat the petals of the rose. (contd) in the living bestiary today - look back at previous tweets!
Isidro_li: no voice is audible. the wind sleeps in its peace. no flower of the light can find refuge beneath its trees; only the darkening ivy climbs mingled with wilding rose, and cypress, morn and evening, time's black shadow throws. — walter de la mare
Poemtoday: two poems by walter de la mare ...
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Poem of the day

William Cowper Poem
The Flatting-Mill. An Illustration
 by William Cowper

When a bar of pure silver or ingot of gold
Is sent to be flatted or wrought into length,
It is pass'd between cylinders often, and roll'd
In an engine of utmost mechanical strength.

Thus tortured and squeezed, at last it appears
Like a loose heap of ribbon, a glittering show,
Like music it tinkles and rings in your ears,

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