Not all of de la Mare's poems enjoy creepiness and cruelty like these two. Some are sweet, but none are saccharine. De la Mare's preference for something other than the obviously nice shines through in a poem one of my daughters has always liked:
Bunches of Grapes
"Bunches of grapes," says Timothy;
"Pomegranates pink," says Elaine;
"A junket of cream and a cranberry tart
For me," says Jane.
"Love-in-a-mist," says Timothy;
"Primroses pale," says Elaine;
"A nosegay of pinks and mignonette
For me," says Jane.
"Chariots of gold," says Timothy;
"Silvery wings," says Elaine;
"A bumpity ride in a wagon of hay
For me," says Jane.
