Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PHANTOM (1), by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PHANTOM (1), by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Upstairs in the large closet, child
Last Line: She hath sweet company.
Alternate Author Name(s): Ramal, Walter; De La Mare, Walter


'Upstairs in the large closet, child,
This side the blue-room door,
Is an old Bible, bound in leather,
Standing upon the floor.

'Go with this taper, bring it me;
Carry it on your arm;
It is the book on many a sea
Hath stilled the waves' alarm!'

Late the hour; dark the night;
The house is solitary;
Feeble is a taper's light
To light poor Ann to see.

Her eyes are yet with visions bright
Of sylph and river, flower and fay,
Now through a narrow corridor
She goes her lonely way.

Vast shadows on the heedless walls
Gigantic loom, stoop low:
Each little hasty footfall calls
Hollowly to and fro.

Now in the dark clear glass there moves
A taper, mocking hers, --
A phantom face of light blue eyes,
Reflecting phantom fears.

Around her loom the vacant rooms,
Wind the upward stairs,
She climbs on into a loneliness
Only her taper shares.

Out in the dark a cold wind stirs,
At every window sighs;
A waning moon peers small and chill
From out the cloudy skies,

Casting faint tracery on the walls;
So stony still the house
From cellar to attic rings the shrill
Squeak of the hungry mouse.

Ann scarce can hear or breathe, so fast
Her pent-up heart doth beat,
When, faint along the corridor,
She hears the fall of feet: --

Sounds lighter than silk slippers make
Upon a ballroom floor, when sweet
Violin and 'cello wake
Music for twirling feet.

O! in an old unfriendly house,
What shapes may not conceal
Their faces in the open day,
At night abroad to steal!

Even her taper seems with fear
To languish small and blue;
Far in the woods the winter wind
Runs whistling through.

A dreadful cold plucks at each hair,
Her mouth is stretched to cry,
But sudden, with a gush of joy,
It narrows to a sigh.

'Tis but a phantom child which comes
Soft through the corridor,
Singing an old forgotten song,
This ancient burden bore: --

'Thorn, thorn, I wis,
And roses twain,
A red rose and a white;
Stoop in the blossom, bee, and kiss
A lonely child good-night.

'Swim fish, sing bird,
And sigh again,
I that am lost am lone,
Bee in the blossom never stirred
Locks hid beneath a stone!' --

Her eyes were of the azure fire
That hovers in wintry flame;
Her raiment wild and yellow as furze
That spouteth out the same;

And in her hand she bore no flower,
But on her head a wreath
Of faded flowers that did yet
Smell sweetly after death. . . .

Gloomy with night the listening walls
Are now that she is gone,
Albeit this solitary child
No longer seems alone.

Fast though her taper dwindles down,
Though black the shadows come,
A beauty beyond fear to dim
Haunts now her alien home.

Ghosts in the world, malignant, grim,
Vex many a wood and glen,
And house and pool, -- the unquiet ghosts
Of dead and restless men.

But in her grannie's house this spirit --
A child as lone as she --
Pining for love not found on earth,
Ann dreams again to see.

Seated upon her tapestry-stool,
Her fairy-book laid by,
She gazes into the fire, knowing
She hath sweet company.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net