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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link="#0563C1" vlink="#954F72" style='word-wrap:break-word'><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal>The Listeners<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Walter de la Mare<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Knocking on the moonlit door;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>And his horse in the silence champed the grasses<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Of the forest’s ferny floor:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>And a bird flew up out of the turret,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Above the Traveller’s head:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>And he smote upon the door again a second time;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>But no one descended to the Traveller;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> No head from the leaf-fringed sill<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Where he stood perplexed and still.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>But only a host of phantom listeners<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> That dwelt in the lone house then<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> To that voice from the world of men:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> That goes down to the empty hall,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> By the lonely Traveller’s call.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>And he felt in his heart their strangeness,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Their stillness answering his cry,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> ’Neath the starred and leafy sky;<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>For he suddenly smote on the door, even<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Louder, and lifted his head:—<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> That I kept my word,’ he said.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Never the least stir made the listeners,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> Though every word he spake<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> From the one man left awake:<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> And the sound of iron on stone,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>And how the silence surged softly backward,<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal> When the plunging hoofs were gone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on October 30, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center'>Ann M. Chiappetta, M.S.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='text-align:center'>Making Meaningful ConnectionsThrough Media <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>914.393.6605 USA<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><a href="mailto:Anniecms64@gmail.com">Anniecms64@gmail.com</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>All things Annie: <a href="http://www.annchiappetta.com">www.annchiappetta.com</a> <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>