88 Quotes by Walter de la Mare

Now that cleverness was the fashion most people were clever - even perfect fools; and cleverness after all was often only a bore: all head and no body

Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.

The sandy cat by the Farmer's chair Mews at his knee for dainty fare; Old Rover in his moss-greened house Mumbles a bone, and barks at a mouse. In the dewy fields the cattle lie Chewing the cud 'neath a fading sky; Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.

What is the world, O soldiers? It is I, I, this incessant snow, This northern sky.

All but blind In his chambered hole Gropes for worms The four-clawed Mole.

Three jolly huntsmen, In coats of red, Rode their horses Up to bed.

Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour

Very old are the woods; And the buds that break Out of the brier's boughs, When March winds wake, So old with their beauty are-- Oh, no man knows Through what wild centuries Roves back the rose.

Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.