The Poetry Corner

Fear

By Walter De La Mare

I know where lurk The eyes of Fear; I, I alone, Where shadowy-clear, Watching for me, Lurks Fear. 'Tis ever still And dark, despite All singing and All candlelight, 'Tis ever cold, And night. He touches me; Says quietly, "Stir not, nor whisper, I am nigh; Walk noiseless on, I am by!" He drives me As a dog a sheep; Like a cold stone I cannot weep. He lifts me Hot from sleep In marble hands To where on high The jewelled horror Of his eye Dares me to struggle Or cry. No breast wherein To chase away That watchful shape! Vain, vain to say "Haunt not with night The Day!"