Richard Le Gallienne Poems

Beloved, I would tell a ghostly thing
That hides beneath the simple name of Spring;
Wild beyond hope the news--the dead return,
...

Take away the dancing girls, quench the lights, remove
Golden cups and garlands sere, all the feast; away
Lutes and lyres and Lalage; close the gates, above
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When the spring comes again, will you be there?
Three springs I watched and waited for your face,
And listened for your voice upon the air;
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Bring not your dreams to me--
Blown dust, and vapour, and the running stream--
Saying, 'He, too, doth dream,
Touched of the moon.'
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Deem not my love is only for the bloom,
The honey and the marble, that is You;
Tis so, Beloved, common loves consume
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What are my books?--My friends, my loves,
My church, my tavern, and my only wealth;
My garden: yea, my flowers, my bees, my doves;
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I read there is a man who sits apart,
A sort of human spider in his den,
Who meditates upon a fearful art--
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Through the dark wood
There came to me a friend,
Bringing in his cold hands
Two words-'The End.'
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Why did she marry him? Ah, say why!
How was her fancy caught?
What was the dream that he drew her by,
Or was she only bought?
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Poet, whose words are like the tight-packed seed
Sealed in the capsule of a silver flower,
Still at your art we wonder as we read,
...