Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

  • 101.  
    Love is enough. Let us not ask for gold.
    Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;In those serene, Arcadian days of old
  • 102.  
    Let us clear a little space,
    And make Love a burial-place.
  • 103.  
    We'll cover Love with roses,
    And sweet sleep he shall takeNone but a fool supposes
  • 104.  
    I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,
    Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:
  • 105.  
    To little birds that never tire of humming
    About the garden in the summer weather,Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,
  • 106.  
    Oh thou, mine other, stronger part!
    Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,Come thou, and take this loving heart,
  • 107.  
    O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
    Though your tender words I prize.But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
  • 108.  
    One golden twelfth-part of a checkered year;
    One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth,With not a hint of shadows lurking near,
  • 109.  
    “Maurine, Maurine, 'tis ten o'clock! arise,
    My pretty sluggard, open those dark eyesAnd see where yonder sun is! Do you know
  • 110.  
    The sands upon the ocean side
    That change about with every tide,And never true to one abide,
  • 111.  
    A visit to a cave some miles away
    Was next in order. So, one sunny day,Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
  • 112.  
    There was a week of bustle and of hurry;
    A stately home echoed to voices sweet,Calling, replying; and to tripping feet
  • 113.  
    With much hard labour and some pleasure fraught,
    The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taughtMy hand to grow more skilful in its art,
  • 114.  
    I am thinking of the Springtime
    On the farm out in the West,When my world held nothing for me that I wanted,
  • 115.  
    In Memory's Mansion are wonderful rooms,
    And I wander about them at will;And I pause at the casements, where boxes of blooms
  • 116.  
    After the May time, and after the June time,
    Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
  • 117.  
    Though with gods the world is cumbered,
    Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,Never god was known to be
  • 118.  
    Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
    Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.“As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.
  • 119.  
    Most blest is he who in the morning time
    Sets forth upon his journey with no staffShaped by another for his use. Who sees
  • 120.  
    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,
  • 121.  
    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,
  • 122.  
    A drop of water risen from the ocean
    Forgot its cause, and spake with deep emotionUnto a passing breeze. ‘How desolate
  • 123.  
    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,
  • 124.  
    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
  • 125.  
    Nothing remains of unrecorded ages
    That lie in the silent cemetery time;Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,
  • 126.  
    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
  • 127.  
    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)
  • 128.  
    ‘Only be still, and in the silence grow,'
    If thou art seeking what the gods bestow. This is the simple, safe, and certain way
  • 129.  
    Over the banisters bends a face,
    Daringly sweet and beguiling.Somebody stands in careless grace
  • 130.  
    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
  • 131.  
    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.
  • 132.  
    I'm pardoned out. Again the stars
    Shine on me with their myriad eyes.So long I've peered ‘twixt iron bars,
  • 133.  
    God, may Thy loving Spirit work,
    In heart of Russian, and of Turk,Until throughout each clime and land,
  • 134.  
    At morn the wise man walked abroad,
    Proud with the learning of great fools.He laughed and said, “There is no God-
  • 135.  
    That which we had we still possess,
    Though leaves may drop and stars may fall;No circumstance can make it less,
  • 136.  
    I do not undertake to say
    That literal answers come from Heaven,But I know this-that when I pray
  • 137.  
    Written on the day of Queen Victoria's funeral

  • 138.  
    There is no progress in the world of bees,
    However wise and wonderful they are.Their wisdom makes not increase. Lies the bar,
  • 139.  
    To each progressive soul there comes a day
    When all things that have pleased and satisfiedGrow flavourless, the springs of joy seem dried.
  • 140.  
    Just a changing sea of colour
    Surging up and flowing down;And pagodas shining golden, night and noon;
  • 141.  
    The Radiant Rulers of Mystic Regions
    Where souls of artists are fitted for birthGathered together their lovely legions
  • 142.  
    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,
  • 143.  
    Pausing a moment ere the day was done,
    While yet the earth was scintillant with light,I backward glanced. From valley, plain, and height,
  • 144.  
    I look down the lengthening distance
    Far back to youth's valley of hope.How strange seemed the ways of existence,
  • 145.  
    We stood by the river that swept
    In its glory and grandeur away;But never a pulse o' me leapt,
  • 146.  
    Nay, Romney, nay-I will not hear you say
    Those words again: “I love you, love you sweet!” You are profane-blasphemous. I repeat,
  • 147.  
    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
  • 148.  
    Alone I climb the steep ascending path
    Which leads to knowledge. In the babbling throngsThat hurry after, shouting to the world
  • 149.  
    Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;
    Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death, We one by one, with our expiring breath,
  • 150.  
    If one proves weak who you fancied strong,
    Or false who you fancied true,Just ease the smart of your wounded heart
Total 702 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poem of the day

To Rose
 by Sara Teasdale

Rose, when I remember you,
Little lady, scarcely two,
I am suddenly aware
Of the angels in the air.
All your softly gracious ways
Make an island in my days
Where my thoughts fly back to be
Sheltered from too strong a sea.

Read complete poem

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