Poetical Quill Souls

Poetical Quill Souls

This blog contains a collection of renowned and young authors from around the world poems in the languages in which they were originally written. Each file includes author’s photo or portrait and brief biography. We offer news and announcements of interest to professional and amateur writers (writing competitions, poetry press, etc) too.

Este blog recoge una selección de poemas de reputados autores y jóvenes promesas de todo el mundo en las lenguas en las que fueron escritos originalmente. Se incluye en cada ficha una breve reseña biográfica del autor y fotos o cuadros de éste. Se complementa el grueso del material con datos de interés para escritores profesionales o aficionados a la literatura (como información sobre certámenes literarios, editoriales dedicadas a la poesía, etc).

Walter de la Mare

The Listeners

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, 
   Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses 
   Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret, 
   Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time; 
   ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller; 
   No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, 
   Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners 
   That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight 
   To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, 
   That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken 
   By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness, 
   Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, 
   ’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even 
   Louder, and lifted his head:—
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered, 
   That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners, 
   Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house 
   From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, 
   And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward, 
   When the plunging hoofs were gone.


Walter John de la Mare, (Kent, Inglaterra, 1873 - 1956). Poeta, cuentista, ensayista, dramaturgo y novelista.