Leon Gellert

(1892 - 1977 / Australia)

Leon Gellert Poems

41. Memories 4/5/2010
42. The Soldier 4/5/2010
43. Lemnos Revisited 4/5/2010
44. Dejection 4/5/2010
45. The Cripple 4/5/2010
46. The River 4/5/2010
47. The Brothers 4/5/2010
48. The Trumpets Of Heaven 4/5/2010
49. The Diggers 4/5/2010
50. Again The Clash Is East 4/5/2010
51. The Gecko 4/5/2010
52. Memory 4/5/2010
53. Cold! 4/5/2010
54. A Book Of Wordsworth 4/5/2010
55. Dreamlight 4/5/2010
56. Acceptance 4/5/2010
57. Lemnos Visited 4/5/2010
58. Dreams Of France 4/5/2010
59. Mockery 4/5/2010
60. Murder 4/5/2010
61. The True Dawn 4/5/2010
62. Patience 4/5/2010
63. Fever! 4/5/2010
64. Ease. 1914 4/5/2010
65. The Christmas Beetle 1/1/2004
66. The Consumptive 4/5/2010
67. War! 4/5/2010
68. Poppies 4/5/2010
69. Lost! 4/5/2010
70. Blind! 4/5/2010
71. Goodbye 4/5/2010
72. A Song 4/5/2010
73. Armageddon 4/5/2010
74. Bluebeard’s First Wife 4/5/2010
75. A Night Attack 4/5/2010
76. The Jester In The Trench 1/1/2004
77. The Attack At Dawn 4/5/2010
78. Lemnos Harbour 4/5/2010
79. Before Action 4/5/2010
80. Rendezvous 1/1/2004

Comments about Leon Gellert

  • Barry Hishion (11/15/2019 7:43:00 PM)

    One wonders why this poem is not given prminence by the media on Anzac Day. I learnt it at school 1948.

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  • Robert Winston (2/12/2019 3:14:00 PM)

    I remember Leon as an essayist. He had a regular column in the Sydney Morning Herald during the 1950's. I was a regular reader of his thoughtful essays as a school boy. I was astonished to read here of his role on Galipoli. I never came across his poetry and am surprised he was well known for it. Leon deserved to be better known.

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    0 person did not like.
  • silvia (6/20/2018 11:33:00 PM)

    I like it, however I do enjoy turnips more

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Best Poem of Leon Gellert

Anzac Cove

There’s a lonely stretch of hillocks:
There’s a beach asleep and drear:
There’s a battered broken fort beside the sea.
There are sunken trampled graves:
And a little rotting pier:
And winding paths that wind unceasingly.
There’s a torn and silent valley:
There’s a tiny rivulet
With some blood upon the stones beside its mouth.
There are lines of buried bones:
There’s an unpaid waiting debt :
There’s a sound of gentle sobbing in the South.

Read the full of Anzac Cove

The Last To Leave

The guns were silent, and the silent hills
had bowed their grasses to a gentle breeze
I gazed upon the vales and on the rills,
And whispered, "What of these?' and "What of these?
These long forgotten dead with sunken graves,
Some crossless, with unwritten memories
Their only mourners are the moaning waves,
Their only minstrels are the singing trees
And thus I mused and sorrowed wistfully

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