Richard Le Gallienne

A Ballad Of The Kind Little Creatures

Richard Le Gallienne was an English author and poet. The American actress Eva Le Gallienne was his daughter, by his second marriage.

I had no where to go,
I had no money to spend:
"O come with me," the Beaver said,
"I live at the world's end."
"Does the world ever end!"
To the Beaver then said I:
"O yes! the green world ends," he said,
"Up there in the blue sky."
I walked along with him to home,
At the edge of a singing stream -
The little faces in the town
Seemed made out of a dream.
I sat down in the little house,
And ate with the kind things -
Then suddenly a bird comes out
Of the bushes, and he sings:
"Have you no home? O take my nest,
It almost is the sky;"
And then there came along the creek
A purple dragon-fly.
"Have you no home?" he said;
"O come along with me,
Get on my wings - the moon's my home" -
The dragon-fly said he.
The Bee was told by a young Bat
A man had need of home;
He flew away at once, and said
"Come to my honeycomb!"
Even the butterfly,
A painted hour;
Said to the homeless one:
"I know a flower."
The Ant came slowly,
Late, of course, but still
Bringing the tiny welcome
Of his hill.
The tired turtle,
Fumbling through the wood,
Came, asking hospitably
"If I would?"
Even a hornet came,
With sheathed sting, -
He never yet had seen
So lost a thing!
There was his nest
Up in the singing boughs,
Among the pears,
A fragrant humming house.
And even little
Stupid things that crawl
Among the reeds, deeming
That that is all,
Came a long weary way
To bid me home.
A snake said:
"In the world there is a place
Where you can lie
And dream of her white face."
The moss said: "Your blue eyes
Need my green sleep";
The willow said: "Ah! when
You weep I weep."
Wonderful earth
Of little kindly things,
That buzz and beam
And flitter little wings!
Over the sexton's grave
The growing grass
Cried out: "Come home!
I am alive, alas!"
Ah! love, the world is fading,
Flower by flower,
Each has his little house,
And each his hour.
The ship rocked long
Across the weary sea,
But at the last
There is a port for me.