Richard Le Gallienne

“If in this shadowland of life thou hastFound one true heart to love thee, hold it fast;Love it again, give all to keep it thine,For love like nothing in the world can last.”

“The soul is but senses catching fire,Marvellous music of the body's lyre, -The angel senses are the silver stringsStirred by the breath of some unknown desire.”

“Would you seek beauty, seek it underground;Would you find strength - the strong are underground;And would you next year seek my love and me,Who knows but you must seek us - underground?”

“Some say we came God's purpose to fulfil -Faith a poor purpose then, if so you will;Sport for the heavenly huntsmen, others say, -Sorry the sport, methinks, and poor the skill.”

“Into this life of cruel wonder sent,Without a word to tell us what it meant,Sent back again without a reason why -Birth, life, and death - 'twas all astonishment.”

“So I be written in the Book of Love,I have no care about that book above;Erase my name, or write it, as you please -So I be written in the Book of Love.”

“And do you think that unto such as you,A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,God gave the Secret, and denied it me? -Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.”

“Were I a woman, I would all day longSing my own beauty in some holy song,Bend low before it, hushed and half afraid,And say 'I am a woman' all day long.”

“Like to a maid who exquisitely turnsA promising face to him who, waiting, burnsIn hell to hear her answer - so the worldTricks all, and hints what no man ever learns.”

“To all of us the thought of heaven is dear -Why not be sure of it and make it here?No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,But 'tis so far away - and you are near.Men talk of heaven, - there is no heaven but here;Men talk of hell, - there is no hell but here;Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,O love, there is no other life - but here.”

“What long-dead face makes here the grass so green?On what earth-buried bosom do we lean?Ah! love, when we in turn are grass and flowers,By what kind eyes to come shall we be seen?”

“Good friends, beware! the only life we knowFlies from us like an arrow from the bow,The caravan of life is moving by,Quick! to your places in the passing show.”

“WAKE! for the sun, the shepherd of the sky,Has penned the stars within their fold on high,And, shaking darkness from his mighty limbs,Scatters the daylight from his burning eye.”

“A critic is a man created to praise greater men than himself, but he is never able to find them.”

“I meant to do my work today but . . .”

“She's somewhere in the sunlight strong, / Her tears are in the falling rain, / She calls me in the wind's soft song, / And with the flowers she comes again.”