Richard Le Gallienne

(1866-1947 / England)

Richard Le Gallienne Poems

81. Faith Reborn 4/14/2010
82. Flos Aevorum 4/14/2010
83. For A Picture By Rose Cecil O'Neil 4/14/2010
84. For The Birthday Of Edgar Allan Poe 4/14/2010
85. Good-Night 4/14/2010
86. Green Silence 4/14/2010
87. Happy Letter 4/14/2010
88. Happy Letter 4/14/2010
89. Her Eyes Are Bluebells Now 4/14/2010
90. Her Portrait Immortal 4/14/2010
91. Hesperides 4/14/2010
92. Home ... 4/14/2010
93. How Fast The Year Is Going By 4/14/2010
94. How Many Queens Have Ruled And Passed 4/14/2010
95. I Crossed The Orchard Walking Home 4/14/2010
96. I Know Not In What Place 4/14/2010
97. I Meant To Do My Work To-Day 4/14/2010
98. I Said--I Care Not 4/14/2010
99. I Thought, Before My Sunlit Twentieth Year 4/14/2010
100. If, After All ...! 4/14/2010
101. Immortality 4/14/2010
102. In A Copy Of Fitzgerald's 4/14/2010
103. In A Copy Of Mr. Swinburne's 4/14/2010
104. In Her Diary 4/14/2010
105. In The City 4/14/2010
106. In The Night 4/14/2010
107. Invitation 4/14/2010
108. Jenny Dead 4/14/2010
109. June 4/14/2010
110. Lightnings May Flicker Round My Head 4/14/2010
111. Lightnings May Flicker Round My Head 4/14/2010
112. Love Afar 4/14/2010
113. Love Eternal 4/14/2010
114. Love In Spain 4/14/2010
115. Love Platonic 4/14/2010
116. Lovers 4/14/2010
117. Love's Arithmetic 4/14/2010
118. Love's Exchange 4/14/2010
119. Love's Landmarks 4/14/2010
120. Love's Poor 4/14/2010
Best Poem of Richard Le Gallienne

Soldier Going To The War

Soldier going to the war--
Will you take my heart with you,
So that I may share a little
In the famous things you do?

Soldier going to the war--
If in battle you must fall,
Will you, among all the faces,
See my face the last of all?

Soldier coming from the war--
Who shall bind your sunburnt brow
With the laurel of the hero,
Soldier, soldier--vow for vow!

Soldier coming from the war--
When the street is one wide sea,
Flags and streaming eyes and glory--
Soldier, will you look for me?

Read the full of Soldier Going To The War

The Wife From Fairyland

Her talk was all of woodland things,
   Of little lives that pass
Away in one green afternoon,
   Deep in the haunted grass;

For she had come from fairyland,
   The morning of a day
When the world that still was April
   Was turning into May.

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