Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

  • 551.  
    Little by little the year grows old,
    The red leaves drop from the maple boughs; The sun grows dim, and the winds blow cold,
  • 552.  
    When night hung low and dew fell damp,
    There fell athwart the shadows The gleaming watchfires of the camp,
  • 553.  
    Oh! the maidens of France are certainly fine,
    And I think every fellow will state That the 'what-you-may-call-it' coiffured way
  • 554.  
    A Girlâ??s Reverie
    Mother says, â??Be in no hurry,
  • 555.  
    Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
    And speed us on to untried ways; New seasons ripen, perish, die,
  • 556.  
    Not Atlas, with his shoulders bent beneath the weighty world,
    Bore such a burden as this man, on whom the Gods have hurled The evils of old festering lands-yea, hurled them in their might
  • 557.  
    He said he loved me! Then he called my hair
    Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow, My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new snow;
  • 558.  
    Talk happiness. The world is sad enough
    Without your woe. No path is wholly rough. Look for the places that are smooth and clear,
  • 559.  
    The sun may be clouded, yet ever the sun
    Will sweep on its course till the cycle is run. And when onto chaos the systems are hurled,
  • 560.  
    With each strong thought, with every earnest longing
    For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul, Invisible vast forces are set thronging
  • 561.  
    These quiet Autumn days,
    My soul, like Noah's dove, on airy wings Goes out and searches for the hidden things
  • 562.  
    Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst not forget me.
    Although no more I haunt thy dreams at night, Thy hungering heart forever must regret me,
  • 563.  
    She leaned out into the soft June weather,
    With her long loose tresses the night breeze played; Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
  • 564.  
    I know two women, and one is chaste
    And cold as the snows on a winters waste, Stainless ever I act and thought
  • 565.  
    Of all the blessings which my life has known,
    I value most, and most praise God for three: Want, Loneliness and Pain, those comrades true,
  • 566.  
    Here is a lock of his soft, dark hair,
    And here are the letters he wrote to me. And the ring of gold that I used to wear
  • 567.  
    I saw a mother give wine to her boy-
    The rain-drops fall and fall: The pride of his parents, a household joy,
  • 568.  
    I called to the summer sun,
    â??Come over the hills to-day! Unlock the rivers, and tell them to run,
  • 569.  
    You know that oasis, fresh and fair
    In the city desert, as Greeley square?
  • 570.  
    Thereâ??s many a house of grandeur,
    With turret, tower and dome, That knows not peace or comfort,
  • 571.  
    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,
  • 572.  
    There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
    down lifeâ??s way. And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
  • 573.  
    It may be you've seen her eyes,
    Dark and deep like midnight skies; You mayhap have seen them flash
  • 574.  
    Good-bye â?? Yes, I am going,
    Sudden? Well, you are right. But a startling truth came home to me
  • 575.  
    One bitter time of mourning, I remember,
    When day, and night, my sad heart did complain, My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December,
  • 576.  
    When Tom and I were married, we took a little flat;
    I had a taste for singing and playing and all that. And Tom, who loved to hear me, said he hoped
  • 577.  
    You will forget me. The years are so tender,
    They bind up the wounds which we think are so deep, This dream of our youth will fade out as the splendour
  • 578.  
    Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
    The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside. No more to its motion oâ??er sleepâ??s fairy ocean,
  • 579.  
    The year has but one June, dear friend;
    The year has but one June; And when that perfect month doth end,
  • 580.  
    There are curious isles in the River of Sleep,
    Curious isles without number. We'll visit them all as we leisurely creep
  • 581.  
    In Memory's Mansion are wonderful rooms,
    And I wander about them at will; And I pause at the casements, where boxes of blooms
  • 582.  
    Three Souls there were that reached the Heavenly Gate,
    And gained permission of the Guard to wait. Barred from the bliss of Paradise by sin,
  • 583.  
    I into life so full of love was sent
    That all the shadows which fall on the way
  • 584.  
    The Needle and Thread one day were wed,
    The Thimble acted as priest, A paper of Pins, and the Scissors twins
  • 585.  
    Toward even when the day leans down,
    To kiss the upturned face of night, Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
  • 586.  
    Ye soldiers in the temperance cause,
  • 587.  
    The uses of sorrow I comprehend
    Better and better at each yearâ??s end.
  • 588.  
    All that I ask, 'says Love, 'is just to stand
    And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes; For in their depths lies largest Paradise.
  • 589.  
    In the midnight of darkness and terror,
    When I would grope nearer to God, With my back to a record of error
  • 590.  
    The hurry of the times affects us so
    In this swift rushing hour, we crowd and press
  • 591.  
    I prayed for riches, and achieved success;
    All that I touched turned into gold. Alas! My cares were greater and my peace was less,
  • 592.  
    Over the ocean of lifeâ??s commotion
    We sail till the night comes on. Sail and sail in a tiny boat,
  • 593.  
    There was a kingdom known as the Mind,
    A kingdom vast as fair, And the brave king, Brain, had the right to reign,
  • 594.  
    As in the long dead days marauding hosts
  • 595.  
    All the world was wearying,
    All the world was sad; Everything was shadow-filled;
  • 596.  
    Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue
    In phrases unwritten and measures unsung, As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea,
  • 597.  
    What is flirtation? Really,
    How can I tell you that? But when she smiles I see its wiles,
  • 598.  
    I saw the day lean o'er the world's sharp edge
    And peer into night's chasm, dark and damp;
  • 599.  
    Over my desk in a dark office bending.
    Dim seems the sunlight and dull seems the day; But when the afternoon draws toward an ending,
  • 600.  
    In grandmamma's kitchen, things got in a riot-
    The cream in a pot on the shelf, Where everything always seemed peaceful and quiet,
Total 702 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poem of the day

Union Square
 by Sara Teasdale

With the man I love who loves me not,
I walked in the street-lamps' flare;
We watched the world go home that night
In a flood through Union Square.

I leaned to catch the words he said
That were light as a snowflake falling;
Ah well that he never leaned to hear

Read complete poem

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