The Journey
Heart-sick of his journey was the Wanderer;Footsore and sad was he;And a Witch who long had lurked by the wayside,Looked out of sorcery.
'Lift up your eyes, you lonely Wanderer,'She peeped from her casement small;'Here's shelter and quiet to give you rest, young man,And apples for thirst withal.'
And he looked up out of his sad reverie,And saw all the woods in green,With birds that flitted feathered in the dappling,The jewel-bright leaves between.
And he lifted up his face towards her lattice,And there, alluring-wise,Slanting through the silence of the long past,Dwelt the still green Witch's eyes.
And vaguely from the hiding-place of memoryVoices seemed to cry;'What is the darkness of one brief life-timeTo the deaths thou hast made us die?
'Heed not the words of the EnchantressWho would us still betray!'And sad with the echo of their reproaches,Doubting, he turned away.
'I may not shelter 'neath your roof, lady,Nor in this wood's green shadow seek repose,Nor will your apples quench the thirstA homesick wanderer knows.'
'"Homesick," forsooth!' she softly mocked him:And the beauty in her faceMade in the sunshine pale and tremblingA stillness in that place.
And he sighed, as if in fear, the young Wanderer,Looking to left and to right,Where the endless narrow road swept onward,In the distance lost to sight.
And there fell upon his sense the briar,Haunting the air with its breath,And the faint shrill sweetness of the birds' throats,Their tent of leaves beneath.
And there was the Witch, in no wise heeding;Her arbour, and fruit-filled dish,Her pitcher of well-water, and clear damask--All that the weary wish.
And the last gold beam across the green worldFaltered and failed, as heRemembered his solitude and the dark night'sInhospitality.
His shoulders were bowed with his knapsack;His staff trailed heavy in the dust;His eyes were dazed, and hopeless of the white roadWhich tread all pilgrims must.
And he looked upon the Witch with eyes of sorrowIn the darkening of the day;And turned him aside into oblivion;And the voices died away....
And the Witch stepped down from her casement:In the hush of night he heardThe calling and wailing in dewy thicketOf bird to hidden bird.
And gloom stole all her burning crimson;Remote and faint in spaceAs stars in gathering shadow of the eveningSeemed now her phantom face.
And one night's rest shall be a myriad,Midst dreams that come and go;Till heedless fate, unmoved by weakness, bring himThis same strange by-way through:
To the beauty of earth that fades in ashes,The lips of welcome, and the eyesMore beauteous than the feeble shine of HesperLone in the lightening skies:
Till once again the Witch's guile entreat him;But, worn with wisdom, heSteadfast and cold shall choose the dark night'sInhospitality.
Words in this poem 23
- wayside n.
- The side of the way; the edge or border of a road or path.
- casement n.
- A window sash opening on hinges affixed to the upright side of the frame into which it is fitted. (Poetically) A window. [Shortened fr. encasement. See Incase 1st Case, and cf. Incasement.]
- withal adv.
- With this; with that. [With + all.]
- reverie n.
- A loose or irregular train of thought occurring in musing or mediation; deep musing; daydream. [F. réverie, fr. rêver to dream, rave, be light-headed. Cf. Rave.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- enchantress n.
- A woman versed in magical arts; a sorceress; also, a woman who fascinates. [Cf. F. enchanteresse.]
- homesick a.
- Pining for home; in a nostalgic condition.
- forsooth v. t.
- To address respectfully with the term forsooth.
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- stillness n.
- The quality or state of being still; quietness; silence; calmness; inactivity.
- briar n.
- A plant with a slender woody stem bearing stout prickles; especially, species of Rosa, Rubus, and Smilax. [OE. brere, brer, AS. brer, brær; cf. Ir. briar prickle, thorn, brier, pin, Gael. preas bush, brier, W. prys, prysg.]
- arbour n.
- A kind of latticework formed of, or covered with, vines, branches of trees, or other plants, for shade; a bower. Sir P. [OE. herber, herbere, properly a garden of herbs, F. herbier, fr. L. herbarium. See Herb, and cf. Herbarium.]
- inhospitality n.
- The quality or state of being inhospitable; inhospitableness; lack of hospitality. Bp. Hall. [L. inhospitalitas: cf. F. inhospitalité. See In- not, and Hospitality.]
- knapsack n.
- A case of canvas or leather, for carrying on the back a soldier's necessaries, or the clothing, etc., of a traveler. [D. knapzak; knappen to eat + zak a bag. See Knap, v. t., and Sack.]
- oblivion n.
- The act of forgetting, or the state of being forgotten; cessation of remembrance; forgetfulness. [L. oblivio, akin to oblivisci to forget: cf. OF. oblivion.]
- stole n.
- A long, loose garment reaching to the feet. [AS. stole, L. stola, Gr. stall. See Stall.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- myriad n.
- The number of ten thousand; ten thousand persons or things. [Gr. myriade.]
- unmoved a.
- Not moved; fixed; firm; unshaken; calm; apathetic.
- beauteous a.
- Full of beauty; beautiful; very handsome. [Mostly poetic] -- Beau"te*ous*ly, adv. --
- hesper n.
- The evening; Hesperus. [See Hesperian.]
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- entreat v. t.
- To treat, or conduct toward; to deal with; to use. [OE. entreten to treat, request, OF. entraiter to treat of; pref. en- (L. in) + traitier to treat. See Treat.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Journey is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Listeners and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #22569; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Walter de la Mare, The Journey, in The Listeners and Other Poems (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #22569, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/de-la-mare-listeners/the-journey.html, id L17105.
Form and metre
The Journey is 76 lines in 19 stanzas of 4 lines each. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter. 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.3 syllables. 23 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 26% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 2 -A-A wanderer · smallA · man · withalA
- 3 -A-A reverie · greenA · dappling · betweenA
- 4 -A-A lattice · wiseA · past · eyesA
- 5 -A-A memory · cryA · time · dieA
- 6 -A-A enchantress · betrayA · reproaches · awayA
- 7 -A-A lady · reposeA · thirst · knowsA
- 8 -A-A him · faceA · trembling · placeA
- 9 -A-A wanderer · rightA · onward · sightA
- 11 -A-A heeding · dishA · damask · wishA
- 13 -A-A knapsack · dustA · road · mustA
- 14 -A-A sorrow · dayA · oblivion · awayA
- 15 -A-A casement · heardA · thicket · birdA
- 16 -A-A crimson · spaceA · evening · faceA
- 18 AA-A ashesA · eyesA · hesper · skiesA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Heart-sick of his journey was the Wanderer; | 10 | ····/˘··/˘ |
| Footsore and sad was he; | 6 | /˘···· |
| And a Witch who long had lurked by the wayside, | 11 | ·········/· |
| Looked out of sorcery. | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| 'Lift up your eyes, you lonely Wanderer,' | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| She peeped from her casement small; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| 'Here's shelter and quiet to give you rest, young man, | 11 | ·/˘·/······ |
| And apples for thirst withal.' | 7 | ·/˘··˘/ |
| And he looked up out of his sad reverie, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| And saw all the woods in green, | 7 | ······· |
| With birds that flitted feathered in the dappling, | 11 | ···/˘/˘···· |
| The jewel-bright leaves between. | 6 | ·/···· |
| And he lifted up his face towards her lattice, | 11 | ··/˘·····/˘ |
| And there, alluring-wise, | 6 | ··˘/˘· |
| Slanting through the silence of the long past, | 10 | /˘··/˘···· |
| Dwelt the still green Witch's eyes. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| And vaguely from the hiding-place of memory | 11 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Voices seemed to cry; | 6 | /˘·˘·· |
| 'What is the darkness of one brief life-time | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| To the deaths thou hast made us die? | 8 | ········ |
| 'Heed not the words of the Enchantress | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Who would us still betray!' | 6 | ····˘/ |
| And sad with the echo of their reproaches, | 11 | ····/˘··˘/˘ |
| Doubting, he turned away. | 6 | /˘··˘/ |
| 'I may not shelter 'neath your roof, lady, | 10 | ···/˘···/˘ |
| Nor in this wood's green shadow seek repose, | 10 | ·····/··˘/ |
| Nor will your apples quench the thirst | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| A homesick wanderer knows.' | 6 | ·/·/˘· |
| '"Homesick," forsooth!' she softly mocked him: | 9 | /·˘/·/˘·· |
| And the beauty in her face | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Made in the sunshine pale and trembling | 9 | ···/···/˘ |
| A stillness in that place. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And he sighed, as if in fear, the young Wanderer, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Looking to left and to right, | 7 | /˘····· |
| Where the endless narrow road swept onward, | 10 | ··/˘/˘··/˘ |
| In the distance lost to sight. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And there fell upon his sense the briar, | 9 | ········/ |
| Haunting the air with its breath, | 7 | /˘····· |
| And the faint shrill sweetness of the birds' throats, | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| Their tent of leaves beneath. | 6 | ······ |
| And there was the Witch, in no wise heeding; | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Her arbour, and fruit-filled dish, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Her pitcher of well-water, and clear damask-- | 11 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| All that the weary wish. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And the last gold beam across the green world | 10 | ·····˘/··· |
| Faltered and failed, as he | 6 | /˘···· |
| Remembered his solitude and the dark night's | 11 | ˘/˘·/˘····· |
| Inhospitality. | 2 | ·· |
| His shoulders were bowed with his knapsack; | 9 | ·/˘····/· |
| His staff trailed heavy in the dust; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| His eyes were dazed, and hopeless of the white road | 11 | ·····/˘···· |
| Which tread all pilgrims must. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And he looked upon the Witch with eyes of sorrow | 12 | ··········/˘ |
| In the darkening of the day; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And turned him aside into oblivion; | 10 | ···˘/··˘/˘ |
| And the voices died away.... | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| And the Witch stepped down from her casement: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| In the hush of night he heard | 7 | ······· |
| The calling and wailing in dewy thicket | 11 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘/˘ |
| Of bird to hidden bird. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And gloom stole all her burning crimson; | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Remote and faint in space | 6 | ˘/···· |
| As stars in gathering shadow of the evening | 11 | ···/˘/···/˘ |
| Seemed now her phantom face. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| And one night's rest shall be a myriad, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Midst dreams that come and go; | 6 | ······ |
| Till heedless fate, unmoved by weakness, bring him | 11 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘·· |
| This same strange by-way through: | 6 | ······ |
| To the beauty of earth that fades in ashes, | 11 | ··/˘·····/˘ |
| The lips of welcome, and the eyes | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| More beauteous than the feeble shine of Hesper | 12 | ·/˘˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Lone in the lightening skies: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Till once again the Witch's guile entreat him; | 11 | ··˘/·/˘·˘/· |
| But, worn with wisdom, he | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Steadfast and cold shall choose the dark night's | 9 | /········ |
| Inhospitality. | 2 | ·· |
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