When The Long Day Has Faded

When the long day has faded to its end,
The flowers gone, and all the singing done,
And there is no companion left save Death -
Ah! there is one,
Though in her grave she lies this many a year,
Will send a violet made of her blue eyes,
A flowering whisper of her April breath,
Up through the sleeping grass to comfort me,
And in the April rain her tears shall fall.

Richard Le Gallienne

Richard Le Gallienne was an English author and poet born on January 20, 1866. Known for his lyrical poetry, he was a key figure in the literary circles of the fin de siècle. He contributed to the literary magazine 'The Yellow Book' and was involved with the Rhymers' Club, an influential group of London-based poets. His works often explored themes of beauty, love, and nature. His influence extended to both sides of the Atlantic, and he spent the latter part of his life in the United States, where he continued to write until his death on September 15, 1947.

Richard Le Gallienne

Love's Proud Farewell

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

Young Love VIII - Orbits

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

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Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

On Mr. Gladstone's Retirement

Richard Le Gallienne, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Rose Has Left The Garden

The Rose has left the garden,
Here she but faintly lives,
Lives but for me,
Within this little urn of pot-pourri
Of all that was
And never more can be,
While her black berries harden
On the wind-shaken tree.
Yet if my song a little fragrance gives,
'Tis not all loss,
Something I save
From the sweet grave
Wherein she lies,
Something she gave
That never dies,
Something that may still live
In these my words
That draw from her their breath,
And fain would be her birds
Still in her death.

Richard Le Gallienne

April

April, half-clad in flowers and showers,
    Walks, like a blossom, o'er the land;
She smiles at May, and laughing takes
    The rain and sunshine hand in hand.

So gay the dancing of her feet,
    So like a garden her soft breath,
So sweet the smile upon her face,
    She charms the very heart of death.

The young moon in a trance she holds
    Captive in clouds of orchard bloom,
She snaps her fingers at the grave,
    And laughs into the face of doom.

Yet in her gladness lurks a fear,
    In all her mirth there breathes a sigh,
So soon her pretty flowers are gone -
    And ah! she is too young to die!

Richard Le Gallienne

April Is In The World Again

April is in the world again,
And all the world is filled with flowers -
Flowers for others, not for me!
For my one flower I cannot see,
Lost in the April showers.

I cannot wake her, though I sing,
And all the birds, for her dear sake,
Fill with their songs the wintry brake;
Ah! could they make her rise again,
What resurrection would be mine!
Is she too tired to help the sun
And all the little stars to shine?

Richard Le Gallienne

Primum Mobile

When thou art gone, then all the rest will go;
Mornings no more shall dawn,
Roses no more shall blow,
Thy lovely face withdrawn -
Nor woods grow green again after the snow;
For of all these thy beauty was the dream,
The soul, the sap, the song;
To thee the bloom and beam
Of flower and star belong,
And all the beauty thine of bird and stream.

Thy bosom was the moonrise, and the morn
The roses of thy cheek,
No lovely thing was born
But of thy face did speak -
How shall all these endure, of thee forlorn?
The sad heart of the world grew glad through thee,
Happy, men toiled and spun
That had thy smile for fee;
So flowers seek the sun,
So singing rivers hasten to the sea.

Yet, though the world, bereft, should bleakly bloom,
And w...

Richard Le Gallienne

Autumn

The sad nights are here and the sad mornings,
The air is filled with portents and with warnings,
Clouds that vastly loom and winds that cry,
A mournful prescience
Of bright things going hence;
Red leaves are blown about the widowed sky,
And late disconsolate blooms
Dankly bestrew
The garden walks, as in deserted rooms
The parted guest, in haste to bid adieu,
Trinklets and shreds forgotten left behind,
Torn letters and a ribbon once so brave -
Wreckage none cares to save,
And hearts grow sad to find;
And phantom echoes, as of old foot-falls,
Wander and weary out in the thin air,
And the last cricket calls -
A tiny sorrow, shrilling "Where? ah! where?"

Richard Le Gallienne

Spring's Promises

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;
    I sought for you in many a hidden place,
Saying, "She must be there."

"Surely some magic slumber holds her fast,
    She whose blue eyes were morning's earliest flowers,"
I sighed: and, one by one, before me passed
    The rainbowed daughters of the vernal showers,
Saying, "She comes at last."

Ah! broken promise of the world! how fair
    You speak young hearts! In many a wanton word
Of lyric April, each succeeding year,
    By risen flower, and the returning bird,
You vowed to bring back her.

And now the flutes are in the trees once more,
    The violets breathe up through the melting snow,
...

Richard Le Gallienne