Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

  • 551.  
    I love the tropics, where sun and rain
    Go forth together, a joyous train,To hold up the green, gay side of the world,
  • 552.  
    We walk on starry fields of white
    And do not see the daisies;For blessings common in our sight
  • 553.  
    Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
    That on this holy morning comes to thoseWho have been burdened with the cares which make
  • 554.  
    All in the time when Earth did most deplore
    The cold, ungracious aspect of young May,Sweet Summer came, and bade him smile once more;
  • 555.  
    I

  • 556.  
    I

  • 557.  
    Oh, an ugly thing is an iron rail,
    Black, with its face to the dust.But it carries a message where winged things fail;
  • 558.  
    Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
    Weep, and you weep alone;For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
  • 559.  
    Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under-
    The busy Old Year who has gone away-How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,
  • 560.  
    Slipping away-slipping away!
    Out of our brief year slips the May;And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;
  • 561.  
    If one proves weak who you fancied strong,
    Or false who you fancied true,Just ease the smart of your wounded heart
  • 562.  
    Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;
    Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death, We one by one, with our expiring breath,
  • 563.  
    Alone I climb the steep ascending path
    Which leads to knowledge. In the babbling throngsThat hurry after, shouting to the world
  • 564.  
    Now with the almost finished task make haste.
    So near the night thou hast no time to waste.Post up accounts, and let thy Soul's eyes look
  • 565.  
    Nay, Romney, nay-I will not hear you say
    Those words again: “I love you, love you sweet!” You are profane-blasphemous. I repeat,
  • 566.  
    We stood by the river that swept
    In its glory and grandeur away;But never a pulse o' me leapt,
  • 567.  
    I look down the lengthening distance
    Far back to youth's valley of hope.How strange seemed the ways of existence,
  • 568.  
    Pausing a moment ere the day was done,
    While yet the earth was scintillant with light,I backward glanced. From valley, plain, and height,
  • 569.  
    Twice have I seen God's full reflected grace.
    Once when the wailing of a child at birth Proclaimed another soul had come to earth,
  • 570.  
    The Radiant Rulers of Mystic Regions
    Where souls of artists are fitted for birthGathered together their lovely legions
  • 571.  
    Just a changing sea of colour
    Surging up and flowing down;And pagodas shining golden, night and noon;
  • 572.  
    To each progressive soul there comes a day
    When all things that have pleased and satisfiedGrow flavourless, the springs of joy seem dried.
  • 573.  
    There is no progress in the world of bees,
    However wise and wonderful they are.Their wisdom makes not increase. Lies the bar,
  • 574.  
    Written on the day of Queen Victoria's funeral

  • 575.  
    I do not undertake to say
    That literal answers come from Heaven,But I know this-that when I pray
  • 576.  
    That which we had we still possess,
    Though leaves may drop and stars may fall;No circumstance can make it less,
  • 577.  
    At morn the wise man walked abroad,
    Proud with the learning of great fools.He laughed and said, “There is no God-
  • 578.  
    God, may Thy loving Spirit work,
    In heart of Russian, and of Turk,Until throughout each clime and land,
  • 579.  
    I'm pardoned out. Again the stars
    Shine on me with their myriad eyes.So long I've peered ‘twixt iron bars,
  • 580.  
    How blind is he who prays that God will send
    All pain from earth. Pain has its use and place;Its ministry of holiness and grace.
  • 581.  
    All through the night time, and all through the day time,
    Dreading the morning and dreading the night,Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time
  • 582.  
    Over the banisters bends a face,
    Daringly sweet and beguiling.Somebody stands in careless grace
  • 583.  
    ‘Only be still, and in the silence grow,'
    If thou art seeking what the gods bestow. This is the simple, safe, and certain way
  • 584.  
    Long have I searched, cathedral shrine, and hall,
    To find a symbol, from the hand of art,That gave the full expression (not a part)
  • 585.  
    They tell me new methods now govern the Muses,
    The modes of expression have changed with the times;That low is the rank of the poet who uses
  • 586.  
    Nothing remains of unrecorded ages
    That lie in the silent cemetery time;Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,
  • 587.  
    I think I never passed so sad an hour,
    Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.The edifice from basement to the tower
  • 588.  
    Up from the South come the birds that were banished,
    Frightened away by the presence of frost.Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished,
  • 589.  
    A drop of water risen from the ocean
    Forgot its cause, and spake with deep emotionUnto a passing breeze. ‘How desolate
  • 590.  
    As some dusk mother shields from all alarms
    The tired child she gathers to her breast,The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms,
  • 591.  
    This is the place that I love the best,
    A little brown house like a ground-bird's nest,Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
  • 592.  
    Most blest is he who in the morning time
    Sets forth upon his journey with no staffShaped by another for his use. Who sees
  • 593.  
    Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
    Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.“As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.
  • 594.  
    Though with gods the world is cumbered,
    Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,Never god was known to be
  • 595.  
    After the May time, and after the June time,
    Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
  • 596.  
    In Memory's Mansion are wonderful rooms,
    And I wander about them at will;And I pause at the casements, where boxes of blooms
  • 597.  
    I am thinking of the Springtime
    On the farm out in the West,When my world held nothing for me that I wanted,
  • 598.  
    With much hard labour and some pleasure fraught,
    The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taughtMy hand to grow more skilful in its art,
  • 599.  
    There was a week of bustle and of hurry;
    A stately home echoed to voices sweet,Calling, replying; and to tripping feet
  • 600.  
    A visit to a cave some miles away
    Was next in order. So, one sunny day,Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
Total 710 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poem of the day

Christina Rossetti Poem
In Progress
 by Christina Rossetti

Ten years ago it seemed impossible
That she should ever grow so calm as this,
With self-remembrance in her warmest kiss
And dim dried eyes like an exhausted well.
Slow-speaking when she has some fact to tell,
Silent with long-unbroken silences,
Centred in self yet not unpleased to please,
Gravely monotonous like a passing bell.
...

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