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"The Listeners"
Posted by: Janelle (---.one.net.au)
Date: November 02, 2000 08:54AM

I'm looking for a copy of a poem called "The Listeners", it is Lyrical verse and was written by a brittish poet.

It starts as follows
"Is there anybody there" asked traveller

I can't remember after that


RE: "The Listeners"
Posted by: Peter (---.host.btclick.com)
Date: November 02, 2000 03:35PM

Janelle
It's certainly by a British poet - Walter de la Mare. If you go to website www.redbrick.dcu.ie/~melmoth/lis.html you should find the full text. If you have problems, use your search facility and ask for Walter de la Mare, which is how I found it ....
Regards Peter


RE: "The Listeners"
Posted by: Chesil (---.neo.rr.com)
Date: November 02, 2000 04:32PM

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,
Harkening 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.




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