An Epitaph
by Walter de la Mare
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A short, melancholic reflection standing before a tombstone. The speaker reads that 'Here lies a most beautiful lady', describing her as 'Light of step and heart', gentle, carefree and happy, and the most beautiful lady that 'ever was in the West Country' of England. From this single loss the poet draws a universal truth: 'But beauty vanishes; beauty passes, / However rare, rare it be.' Physical beauty, however extraordinary, must inevitably fade. The emotional climax comes in the haunting final question: 'And when I crumble, who will remember / This lady of the West Country?' The word 'crumble' stands for the poet's own death; he realizes that once he too is gone, no one will remain to remember this beautiful lady, and her memory will vanish into cold oblivion. The poem's central theme is that memory itself dies when the one who remembers dies.
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Walter de la Mare (1873–1956) was born in Kent, England, and is famous for his children's poems and supernatural stories. He was honoured with the prestigious Order of Merit by Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. This poem is an inscription on a tomb in memory of a deceased beautiful lady.
The beautiful lady at rest
The speaker stands before a grave and reads the epitaph: 'Here lies a most beautiful lady.' He describes her as being 'Light of step and heart was she', suggesting she was gentle, carefree and moved through the world with a light, happy heart, free from heavy attachments. He holds her in the highest regard, believing she was the most exceptionally beautiful lady that 'ever was in the West Country', a picturesque region of England.
The transience of beauty
The poet uses this specific loss to deliver a universal philosophical truth about human life: 'But beauty vanishes; beauty passes, / However rare, rare it be.' He reminds the reader that physical attractiveness is temporary and must inevitably fade and disappear with time, no matter how rare or extraordinary it may be.
The tragedy of oblivion
The true emotional climax lies in the haunting final question: 'And when I crumble, who will remember / This lady of the West Country?' The word 'crumble' is a metaphor for the poet's own death and decay. He realizes that once he dies, there will be no one left on earth who remembers this beautiful lady, leaving her memory to vanish into total, cold oblivion.