Poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

  • 151.  
    Slipping away-slipping away!
    Out of our brief year slips the May;And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;
  • 152.  
    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,
  • 153.  
    Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
    Weep, and you weep alone;For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
  • 154.  
    Oh, an ugly thing is an iron rail,
    Black, with its face to the dust.But it carries a message where winged things fail;
  • 155.  

  • 156.  

  • 157.  
    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;
  • 158.  
    Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
    That on this holy morning comes to thoseWho have been burdened with the cares which make
  • 159.  
    We walk on starry fields of white
    And do not see the daisies;For blessings common in our sight
  • 160.  
    I love the tropics, where sun and rain
    Go forth together, a joyous train,To hold up the green, gay side of the world,
  • 161.  
    They walked the valley of the dead;
    Lit by a weird half light;No sound they made, no word they said;
  • 162.  
    With brooding mien and sultry eyes,
    Outside the gates of ParadiseEve sat, and fed the faggot flame
  • 163.  
    In the banquet hall of Progress
    God has bidden to a feastAll the women in the East.
  • 164.  
    Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending
    Through these glad New Year days,To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending-
  • 165.  
    Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
    That, like a restless comrade, frightened sleep,And every thought that found her left a dart
  • 166.  
    You may talk of reformations, of the Economic Plan,
    That shall stem the Social Evil in its course;But the Ancient Sin of nations, must be got at in THE MAN.
  • 167.  
    To build a house, with love for architect,
    Ranks first and foremost in the joys of life.And in a tiny cabin, shaped for two,
  • 168.  
    I held the golden vessel of my soul
    And prayed that God would fill it from on high.Day after day the importuning cry
  • 169.  
    Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,
    With panting breath and a startled scream;Swift as a bird in sudden flight
  • 170.  
    Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone,
    Some of us harbour stillA New World pride: and we flaunt or hide
  • 171.  
    It may be that I dreamed a dream; it may be that I saw
    The forecast of a time to come by some supernal law.
  • 172.  
    All roads that lead to God are good;
    What matters it, your faith, or mine; Both centre at the goal divine
  • 173.  
    A rose in my garden, the sweetest and fairest,
    Was hanging her head through the long golden hours;And early one morning I saw her tears falling,
  • 174.  
    All wondering, and eager-eyed, within her portico
    I made my plea to Hostess Life, one morning long ago.
  • 175.  
    I have listened to the sighing of the burdened and the bound,
    I have heard it change to crying, with a menace in the sound;I have seen the money-getters pass unheeding on the way,
  • 176.  
    ‘Oh life is wonderful,' she said,
    ‘And all my world is bright;Can Paradise show fairer skies,
  • 177.  
    I set out for the Land of Content,
    By the gay crowded pleasure-highway,With laughter, and jesting, I went
  • 178.  
    Now is the time when India is gay
    With wedding parties; and the radiant throngsSeem like a scattered rainbow taking part
  • 179.  
    Somebody's baby was buried to-day-
    The empty white hearse from the grave rumbled back,And the morning somehow seemed less smiling and gay
  • 180.  
    A Tribute To The Policemen Of England's Capital

  • 181.  
    The Muse said, Let us sing a little song
    Wherein no hint of wrong,No echo of the great world need, or pain,
  • 182.  

  • 183.  
    In a land beyond sight or conceiving,
    In a land where no blight is, no wrong,No darkness, no graves, and no grieving,
  • 184.  
    Fling my past behind me, like a robe
    Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
  • 185.  
    If you listen you will hear, from east to west,
    Growing sounds of discontent and deep unrest.It is just the progress-driven plough of God,
  • 186.  
    Not they who know the awful gibbet's anguish,
    Not they who, while sad years go by them, inThe sunless cells of lonely prisons languish,
  • 187.  
    Over and over the task was set,
    Over and over I slighted the work,But ever and alway I knew that yet
  • 188.  

  • 189.  
    Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land,
    A temple by the muses set apart; A perfect structure of consummate art,
  • 190.  

  • 191.  
    God gave him passions, splendid as the sun,
    Meant for the lordliest purposes; a partOf nature's full and fertile mother heart,
  • 192.  
    They met each other in the glade-
    She lifted up her eyes;Alack the day! Alack the maid!
  • 193.  
    There is a little Bungalow
    Perched on a granite ledge,And at its feet two suitors meet;
  • 194.  
    A modern hour from London (as we spin
    Into a silver thread the miles of spaceBetween us and our goal), there is a place
  • 195.  
    Oh, vain is the stern protesting
    Of winds, when the tide runs high;And vainly the deep-sea waters
  • 196.  
    There is a room serene and fair,
    All palpitant with light and air;Free from the dust, world's noise and fuss-
  • 197.  
    Sometimes I wish the railroads all were torn out,
    The ships all sunk among the coral strands.I am so very weary, yea, so worn out,
  • 198.  
    Oh! by and by we shall hear the cry,
    ‘This is the way to Mars.'Come take a trip, on the morning Ship;
  • 199.  
    The Truth Teller lifts the curtain,
    And shows us the people's plight;And everything seems uncertain,
  • 200.  
    On a great cathedral window I have seen
    A Summer sunset swoon and sink away,Lost in the splendours of immortal art.
Total 702 poems written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Poem of the day

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;

Read complete poem

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