All But Blind

All but blind
In his chambered hole,
Gropes for worms
The four-clawed mole.

All but blind
In the evening sky,
The hooded Bat
Twirls softly by.

All but blind
In the burning day,
The barn owl
Blunders on her way.

And blind as are
These three to me,
So blind to someone
I must be.

by Walter de la Mare

Comments (3)

Brilliant, convincing handling of pentameter. With his friend Bishop, may be the greatest twentieth-century voice.
I first encountered this poem as a frontspiece to Robert Stone's novel, 'A Hall of Mirrors.' Interestingly, Stone took his title from the line that he quoted as, 'And candles gutter in a hall of mirrors.' Does anybody know how he came to quote the line this way? It's an interesting image, but not, perhaps, Lowell's.
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