Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

  • 601.  
    The sands upon the ocean side
    That change about with every tide,And never true to one abide,
  • 602.  
    “Maurine, Maurine, 'tis ten o'clock! arise,
    My pretty sluggard, open those dark eyesAnd see where yonder sun is! Do you know
  • 603.  
    One golden twelfth-part of a checkered year;
    One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth,With not a hint of shadows lurking near,
  • 604.  
    O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
    Though your tender words I prize.But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
  • 605.  
    Oh thou, mine other, stronger part!
    Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,Come thou, and take this loving heart,
  • 606.  
    To little birds that never tire of humming
    About the garden in the summer weather,Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,
  • 607.  
    I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,
    Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:
  • 608.  
    We'll cover Love with roses,
    And sweet sleep he shall takeNone but a fool supposes
  • 609.  
    Let us clear a little space,
    And make Love a burial-place.
  • 610.  
    Love is enough. Let us not ask for gold.
    Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;In those serene, Arcadian days of old
  • 611.  
    Whether you frolic with comrade boys,
    Or sit at your studies, or play with toys,Whatever your station, or place, or sphere,
  • 612.  
    Every morning and every night
    There passes our window near the street,A little girl with an eye so bright,
  • 613.  
    Now we must part, my Lippo. Even so,
    I grieve to see thy sudden pained surprise;Gaze not on me with such accusing eyes-
  • 614.  
    When God created this good world
    A few stupendous peaks were hurledFrom His strong hand, and they remain
  • 615.  
    Let no man pray that he know not sorrow,
    Let no soul ask to be free from pain,For the gall of to-day is the sweet of to-morrow,
  • 616.  
    Is anyone sad in the world, I wonder?
    Does anyone weep on a day like this,With the sun above and the green earth under?
  • 617.  
    Life and I are lovers, straying
    Arm in arm along:Often like two children Maying,
  • 618.  
    Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of glee,
    Doth bear us on his shoulder for a time.There is no path too steep for him to climb.
  • 619.  
    Oh! I feel the growing glory
    Of our life upon this sphere,Of the life that like a river
  • 620.  
    All in the dark we grope along,
    And if we go amissWe learn at least which path is wrong,
  • 621.  
    Toward even, when the day leans down
    To kiss the upturned face of night,Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
  • 622.  
    Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams
    In vastness of clouds hid from thy sightThat yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,
  • 623.  
    Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!
    From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seenHow I do strive for heights? but lacking wings,
  • 624.  
    When was it that love died? We were so fond,
    So very fond a little while ago. With leaping pulses, and blood all aglow,
  • 625.  
    Is the goal distant, and troubled the road,
    And the way long? And heavy your load?
  • 626.  

  • 627.  
    All the selfish joys of earth,
    I am getting through.That which used to lure and lead
  • 628.  
    We will be what we could be. Do not say,
    “It might have been, had not or that, or this.”No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
  • 629.  
    It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes,
    The last line has withered and curled.In a tiny white heap of dead ashes
  • 630.  
    If the sad old world should jump a cog
    Sometime, in its dizzy spinning,And go off the track with a sudden jog,
  • 631.  
    The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer;
    The headstones thicken along the way,And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger,
  • 632.  
    To-day I was so weary and I lay
    In that delicious state of semi-waking,When baby, sitting with his nurse at play,
  • 633.  
    Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,
    I hear the strangest things,-As my brain grows hot with burning thought,
  • 634.  
    In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
    The lucky wight may prosper for a day,But in good time true merit leads the van,
  • 635.  
    How happy they are, in all seeming,
    How gay, or how smilingly proud,How brightly their faces are beaming,
  • 636.  
    In India's land one listens aghast
    To the people who scream and bawl;For each caste yells at a lower caste,
  • 637.  
    In England there are wrongs, no doubt,
    Which should be righted; so men say,Who seek to weed earth's garden out
  • 638.  
    If I were a raindrop, and you were a leaf,
    I would burst from the cloud above you,And lie on your breast in a rapture of rest,
  • 639.  
    If Christ came questioning His world to-day,
    (If Christ came questioning,)‘What hast thou done to glorify thy God,
  • 640.  
    Dear love, if you and I could sail away,
    With snowy pennons to the wind unfurled,Across the waters of some unknown bay,
  • 641.  
    I look to Science for the cure of Crime;
    To patient righting of a thousand wrongs;To final healing of a thousand ills.
  • 642.  
    Death! I know not what room you are abiding in,
    But I will go my way, Rejoicing day by day,
  • 643.  
    Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of Life
    In the full meaning of that splendid word. Its subtle music which few men have heard,
  • 644.  
    The roses all were pink and red,
    Before the Bumble Bee,A lover bold, with cloak of gold,
  • 645.  
    We know not what lies in us, till we seek;
    Men dive for pearls-they are not found on shore,The hillsides most unpromising and bleak
  • 646.  
    Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise
    Of late all men have sounded. She for whom Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb
  • 647.  
    I feel the stirrings in me of great things.
    New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,And tremble on the margin of their nest,
  • 648.  
    Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year
    I saw a tear.Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow
  • 649.  
    God measures souls by their capacity
    For entertaining his best Angel, Love.Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,
  • 650.  
    Into the world's most high and holy places
    Men carry selfishness, and graft and greed.The air is rent with warring of the races;
Total 710 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poem of the day

A. E. Housman Poem
White In The Moon The Long Road Lies
 by A. E. Housman

White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust

Read complete poem

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