Poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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

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Henry Lawson Poem
Laughing And Sneering
 by Henry Lawson

WHAT tho' the world does me ill turns
And cares my life environ;
I'd sooner laugh with Bobbie Burns
Than sneer with titl'd Byron.

The smile has always been the best;
'Tis stronger than the frown, sirs:
And Venus smiled the waves to rest;
...

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