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Full Online Book HomePoemsBut, Song, Arise Thee On A Greater Wing
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But, Song, Arise Thee On A Greater Wing Post by :gwynevans Category :Poems Author :Richard Le Gallienne Date :August 2011 Read :2427

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But, Song, Arise Thee On A Greater Wing

But, Song, Arise Thee On a Greater Wing,
Nor twitter robin-like of love, nor sing
A pretty dalliance with grief--but try
Some metre like a sky,
Wherein to set
Stars that may linger yet
When I, thy master, shall have come to die.
Twitter and tweet
Thy carollings
Of little things,
Of fair and sweet;
For it is meet,
O robin red!
That little theme
Hath little song,
That little head
Hath little dream,
And long.
But we have starry business, such a grief
As Autumn's, dead by some forgotten sheaf,
While all the distance echoes of the wain;
Grief as an ocean's for some sudden isle
Of living green that stayed with it a while,
Then to oblivious deluge plunged again!
Grief as of Alps that yearn but never reach,
Grief as of Death for Life, of Night for Day:
Such grief, O Song, how hast thou strength to teach,
How hope to make assay?

(The end)
Richard Le Gallienne's poem: But, Song, Arise Thee On A Greater Wing

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The Day Of The Two Daffodils The Day Of The Two Daffodils

The Day Of The Two Daffodils
'The daffodils are fine this year,' I said;'O yes, but see my crocuses,' said she.And so we entered in and sat at talkWithin a little parlour bowered aboutWith garden-noises, filled with garden scent,As some sweet sea-shell rings with pearly chimesAnd sighs out fragrance of its mother's breast.We sat at talk, and all the afternoonWhispered about in changing silencesOf flush and sudden light and gathering shade,As though some Maestro drew out organ stopsSomewhere in heaven. As two within a boatOn the wide sea we sat at talk, the hoursLapping unheeded round us as the waves.And as such two will ofttimes pause in

I Make This Rhyme Of My Lady And Me I Make This Rhyme Of My Lady And Me

I Make This Rhyme Of My Lady And Me
I Make This Rhyme of My Lady and MeTo give me ease of my misery,Of my lady and me I make this rhymeFor lovers in the after-time.And I weave its warp from day to dayIn a golden loom deep hid awayIn my secret heart no one goesBut my lady's self, and--no one knows.With bended head all day I poreOn a joyless task, and yet beforeMy eyes all day, through each weary hour,Breathes my lady's face like a dewy flower.Like rain it comes through the dusty air,Like sun on the meadows to think of her;O sweet as violets in early springThe