Oh pity the poor gluttonWhose troubles all beginIn struggling on and on to turnWhats out into whats in. Walter De La Mare Next Quote Softly along the road of evening, In a twilight dim with rose, Wrinkled with age, and drenched with dew, Old Nod, the shepherd, goes. - Walter De La Mare Previous Quote Who said All Times delightHath she for narrow bedLifes troubled bubble broken Thats what I said. - Walter De La Mare