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Leon Maxwell Gellert was born on May 17, 1892, in Adelaide, South Australia. He became one of Australia’s notable war poets, drawing from his experiences in World War I to create poetry that resonated with the pain and futility of war. Gellert’s early influences included British poets like Rupert Brooke and the broader Georgian poetry movement, which sought to blend traditional forms with modern themes. His own work fits into this tradition but carries a starkly Australian sensibility.
Gellert enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force in 1914, joining the 10th Battalion. He was among the first wave of soldiers to land at Gallipoli on April 25, 1915. The campaign was a defining moment for Gellert and deeply shaped his poetry. Like many of his comrades, he endured the harsh conditions, fear, and loss that marked the campaign. However, his service was cut short after he contracted dysentery, leading to his evacuation and return to Australia in 1916. His direct experience with the horrors of war gave him a perspective that was both personal and universal.
His first poetry collection, Songs of a Campaign, was published in 1917. It received widespread acclaim for its raw and vivid portrayal of the war. Unlike the patriotic fervor found in some war poetry, Gellert’s work often focused on the grim realities of battle and the emotional toll it took on soldiers. Poems like “Anzac Cove” became defining pieces, offering a poignant look at the experiences of those who fought at Gallipoli. His writing balanced simple, direct language with deep emotional resonance, making it accessible to a wide audience.
After the war, Gellert moved away from poetry and focused on a career in journalism. He became a prominent figure in Australian literary circles, working as a columnist and editor. His later life saw him contribute to newspapers and anthologies, though he largely left behind the themes of war that had dominated his earlier work. His contributions to Australian literature extended beyond his poetry, as he nurtured a literary community through his editorial work.
Leon Gellert’s legacy is tied to his ability to capture the Australian experience of World War I. His poetry remains a significant part of Australia’s cultural memory of the war, offering insights into both the physical and emotional battles faced by soldiers. He died on August 22, 1977, in Sydney, leaving behind a body of work that continues to resonate for its honesty and humanity. Through his words, Gellert ensured that the experiences of his generation would not be forgotten.
You may learn more at the Australian Dictionary of Biography and Wikipedia.
War
Leon Gellert
When my poor body died,–Alas!
I watched it topple down a hill
And sink beside a tuft of grass.
Sights
Leon Gellert
I saw a singer singing to a crowd,-
Singing of laughing life,- and all the while
He sang in tones so shrilly loud,
The Old and the New
Leon Gellert
Mars! Mars!
Thy clashing sword was keen
And glittering with stars.
The Dead
Leon Gellert
These there were, who lost their everything.
Gave all! And left the earth a vaster sphere
In memories: a song or two to sing,
The Veteran
Leon Gellert
Here must I sit and stare,
Withered and wrinkled;
Knowing the spaces there
These Men
Leon Gellert
Men moving in a trench, in the clear noon,
Whetting their steel within the crumbling earth;
Men, moving in a trench ‘neath a new moon
The Retirement Of Mars
Leon Gellert
He pauses on his way, and gazing back
across the desert ways of splintered steel
recalls the noon, and sees his weary track,
To a Man who Wished to Die
Leon Gellert
And now that you are dead, – If I should die
Upon this ground,
And open my new eye,
The Cross
Leon Gellert
“I wear a cross of bronze,” he said,
“and men have told me I was brave.”
He turned his head,
The Coming Of War
Leon Gellert
Strong from the hills it comes, and flowing
rivers;
Swift from the waters of the rising seas;
The Attack at Dawn
Leon Gellert
‘At every cost,’ they said, ‘it must be done.’
They told us in the early afternoon.
We sit and wait the coming of the sun
The Advice Of Treachery
Leon Gellert
This well-feigned trance, this still and
stupored sleep
is aptly timed, and nobly fits the scheme.
The Christmas Beetle
Leon Gellert
When Christmas comes the Christmas heat’ll
bring once more the Christmas Beetle
The first inflammatory breeze’ll
Rendezvous
Leon Gellert
Long before the dawn breaks
With a bird’s cry,
I’ll be hustling on the wind
Red
Leon Gellert
Place that bayonet in my hand,
And fill this pouch with lead;
Show me the blood and leave me, and let me
Poppies
Leon Gellert
Some scarlet poppies lay upon our right.
He watched them through his periscope all day.
He watched then all the day; but in the night
Patience
Leon Gellert
Red! Red! Red!
Is there no black?
Red like the bloody earth, this pack!
One who Died: In Memory of E.W.T.S.
Leon Gellert
I mind they told me on a noisy hill
I sat and disbelieved, and shook my head:
“Impossible! Impossible! but still
Now ‘Neath the Cool Stars
Leon Gellert
Now ‘neath the cool stars
I know thee more.
Here where the world wars
Lemnos Visited
Leon Gellert
Oh Peace! The Peace I knew. I thought thee dead!
And had not hoped again to see thy smile.
I deemed thee dead, but thou hadst only fled,
Lemnos Revisited
Leon Gellert
Lemnos! Lemnos! Thine enfolding arms
Have held too much, they patterned hills are over shorn
Of all their one-time freshness. Loud alarms
Lemnos Harbour
Leon Gellert
The island sleeps,-but it has no delight
For em, to whom that sleep has been unkind.
My thoughts are long of what seems long ago,
In The Trench
Leon Gellert
Every night I sleep,
And every night I dream
That I’m strolling with my sheep
Dreams of France
Leon Gellert
Oh, dreams of France! Oh, faded dreams of France!
Ohm France, that I had ever dreamed of thee!
I thought to help thee bear thy brandished lance,
Dreamlight
Leon Gellert
Oh, I am lonely by a desert palm,
And dreaming, dreaming on the sands of thought
Oh, come to me from out the voiceless calm,
Before Action
Leon Gellert
We always had to do our work at night.
I wondered why we had to be so sly.
I wondered why we couldn’t have our fight
Armageddon
Leon Gellert
The world rolls wet with blood,
and the skinny hand of Death
gropes at the beating heart.
Anzac Cove
Leon Gellert
There’s a lonely stretch of hillocks:
There’s a beach asleep and drear:
There’s a battered broken fort beside the sea.
Again the Clash is East
Leon Gellert
Again the clash is East, the Gates are barred.
The rolling echoes of of Troy arise
With trebled sound: its weary threshold scarred
Acceptance
Leon Gellert
Beside the doors of a keen-lighted hall
I paused, and quite by chance
I noticed Love
A Song
Leon Gellert
The night has come,, I feel the desert dew,
I lie in Afric’s sands
And breath the night, for night like these are few
A Night Attack
Leon Gellert
Be still. The bleeding night is in suspense
Of watchful agony and coloured thought,
And every beating vein and trembling sense,
A Military Camp in Egypt
Leon Gellert
The moving hours move slowly by the palms.
The lazy Nile laps softly as it flows.
An Arab girl, a flagon in her arms,
‘If You Were Here’
Leon Gellert
If you were here
these long grey fields of space
so quaint and yet so drear,
The Last to Leave
Leon Gellert
The guns were silent, and the silent hills
had bowed their grasses to a gentle breeze
I gazed upon the vales and on the rills,
The Diggers
Leon Gellert
The diggers are digging, and digging deep,
They’re digging and singing,
And I’m asleep.
The Soldier___
Leon Gellert
Here in the noisy night
Is his delight.
Where maxims pour
The Soldier
Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be