By Walter de la Mare"Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller,Knocking on the moonlit door;And his horse in the silence champed the grassOf 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 only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house thenStood listening in the quiet of the moonlightTo 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 shakenBy the lonely Traveller's call.
Never the least stir made the listeners,...
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