Richard Le Gallienne

(1866-1947 / England)

Richard Le Gallienne Poems

161. Saint Charles 4/14/2010
162. Satan: 1920 4/14/2010
163. Satiety 4/14/2010
164. Shadow 4/14/2010
165. Shadows 4/14/2010
166. She Said 4/14/2010
167. Singing Go I 4/14/2010
168. Snatch 4/14/2010
169. So Soon Tired! 4/14/2010
170. Soldier Going To The War 4/14/2010
171. Song 1/4/2003
172. Song - Ii 4/14/2010
173. Songs For Fragoletta 4/14/2010
174. Sorcery 4/14/2010
175. Sore In Need Was I Of A Faithful Friend 4/14/2010
176. Spring's Promises 4/14/2010
177. Summer Going 4/14/2010
178. Summer Songs 4/14/2010
179. Sunset In The City 4/14/2010
180. Tennyson' At The Farm 4/14/2010
181. The Afternoon Is Lonely For Your Face 4/14/2010
182. The Animalcule On Man 4/14/2010
183. The Bloom Upon The Grape 4/14/2010
184. The Broker Of Dreams 4/14/2010
185. The City In Moonlight 4/14/2010
186. The Constant Lover 4/14/2010
187. The Country Gods 4/14/2010
188. The Cry Of The Little Peoples 4/14/2010
189. The Day Of The Two Daffodils 4/14/2010
190. The Dead Arose 4/14/2010
191. The Décadent To His Soul 4/14/2010
192. The Desk's Dry Wood 4/14/2010
193. The Destined Maid: A Prayer 4/14/2010
194. The Door Ajar 4/14/2010
195. The Dryad 4/14/2010
196. The End 4/14/2010
197. The End Of Laughter 4/14/2010
198. The Eyes That Come From Ireland 4/14/2010
199. The Faithful Lover 4/14/2010
200. The Friend 4/14/2010
Best Poem of Richard Le Gallienne

An Ode To Spring

(TO GRANT AND NELLIE ALLEN)

Is it the Spring?
Or are the birds all wrong
That play on flute and viol,
A thousand strong,
In minstrel galleries
Of the long deep wood,
Epiphanies
Of bloom and bud.

Grave minstrels those,
Of deep responsive chant;
But see how yonder goes,
Dew-drunk, with giddy slant,
Yon Shelley-lark,
And hark!
Him on the giddy brink
Of pearly heaven
His fairy anvil clink.

Or watch, in fancy,
How the brimming note
Falls, like a string of pearls,
From out his heavenly throat;
Or like a fountain
In ...

Read the full of An Ode To Spring

I Know Not In What Place

I know not in what place again I'll meet
The face I love-but there is not a street
In the wide world where you can wander, sweet,
Without my finding you, with those great eyes;
Nor is there any star in all the skies
Can give you shelter from my pitiless love.

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