The Poetry Corner

Never-To-Be

By Walter De La Mare

Down by the waters of the sea, Reigns the King of Never-to-be. His palace walls are black with night; His torches star and moons light, And for his timepiece deep and grave Beats on the green unhastening wave. Windswept are his high corridors; His pleasance the sea-mantled shores; For sentinel a shadow stands With hair in heaven, and cloudy hands; And round his bed, king's guards to be, Watch pines in iron solemnity. His hound is mute; his steed at will Roams pastures deep with asphodel; His queen is to her slumber gone; His courtiers mute lie, hewn in stone; He hath forgot where he did hide His sceptre in the mountain-side. Grey-capped and muttering, mad is he - The childless King of Never-to-be; For all his people in the deep Keep everlasting fast asleep; And all his realm is foam and rain, Whispering of what comes not again.