"Is anybody there?"
Cried the Traveller at the door;
While his horse in silence chumped away
At the forest's ferny floor;
And a crow flew out from the turret,
High above the Traveller's head,
As he smote the door a second time: --
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
As he smote the door a second time: --
"Is there anybody there?" he said.

No one came down to the Traveller;
No face from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned out and looked into his eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still,
But only a host of phantoms
That dwelt in the lone house then,
Lay listening in the moonlight--
To that voice from the world of men.
Lay listening in the moonlight--
To that voice from the world of men.

The moonbeams shined upon the stairs,
Going down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in the shadows,
To that lonely Traveller's call,
And he felt their strangeness in his heart,
Their stillness in reply,
While his horse behind him snorted--
'Neath that starred and leafy sky.
While his horse behind him snorted--
'Neath that starred and leafy sky.

Then he smote the door, even louder,
And lifted up his head:—
"Tell them I came," no one answered,
"That I kept my word," he said;
N'er a stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spoke,
Fell echoing through the shadows--
But no one alive awoke.
Fell echoing through the shadows--
But no one alive awoke.

They heard his foot mount the stirrup,
The sound of iron on stone,
And the silence surged softly back,
When the plunging hooves were gone;
They heard his foot mount the stirrup,
The sound of iron on stone,
And the silence surged softly back--
When the plunging hooves were gone.

And the silence surged softly back…

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The Listeners

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 grasses
Of 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 no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:

Stood thronging the faint moon beams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;

For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
"Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word," he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:

Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Notes:

From "The Listeners and Other Poems," by Walter de la Mare, Henry Holt and Company, Inc., ©1916.

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