Ella Wheeler Wilcox

“ That shines through hope of life immortal. In
Sin’s lexicon this is the vilest sin—
Needless and cruel, ugly, gaunt and mean,
Without one poor excuse on which to lean,
A vandal sin, that with no hope of gain
Finds pleasure only in another’s pain.
God! though all other sins on earth persist,
Strike dumb the blatant, loud-mouthed atheist. ”

“ With war’s cessation?
If God’s eyes know tears,
Methinks He weeps more for the wasted years
p. 79And the lost meaning of this earthly life—
This big, brief life—than over bloody strife.
Yea; there are mean, lean sins God must abhor
More than the fatted, blood-drunk monster, War.
Looking from His place, looking from His high place among the stars, God saw a peaceful land—
A land of fertile fields and golden harvests—and great cities whose innumerable spires pierced the vault of heaven, like bayonets of an invading army. ”

“ That word meant nothing on our lips in peace:
We had despoiled it by our castes and classes.
But when this savage carnage finds surcease
A new ideal will unite the masses.
And there shall be True Brotherhood with men—
The Christly Spirit stirring earth again.
p. 32For this our men have suffered, fought, and died.
And we who can but dimly see the end
Are guarded by their spirits glorified,
Who help us on our way, while they ascend.
They are not dead—they are not dead, I say,
These men whose graves we decorate to-day.
America and France walk hand in hand ”

“ 124THE RAINBOW OF PROMISE In the face of the sun are great thunderbolts hurled,
And the storm-clouds have shut out its light;
But a Rainbow of Promise now shines on the world,
And the universe thrills at the sight. ”

“ Not without you had the fighters borne war’s brunt:
So just lift your heads uncowed, for your country will be proud
And its lasting love and honour will bestow
On the khaki boys who were not at the Front.
p. 46TIME’S HYMN OF HATE Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great,
How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate,
While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
Time’s voice is just. His words ring true. For as the past recedes,
The clear-eyed Future slowly writes the story of its deeds ”

“ We are the Allies—make way! make way!
p. 16TEN THOUSAND MEN A DAY All the world was wearying,
All the world was sad;
Everything was shadow-filled;
Things were going bad.
Then a rumour stirred all hearts
As a wind stirs trees—
Ten thousand men a day
Coming over seas!
Soon we saw them marching by—
God! what a sight!—
Shoulders back, and heads erect,
Faces full of light.
Smiling like a morn in May,
Moving like a breeze,
Ten thousand men a day
Coming over seas.
p. 17Weary soldiers worn with war
Lifted up their eyes,
Shadows seemed to fade a bit,
Dawn was in the skies. ”

“ Who are working at war’s problems far away.
You are all our splendid heroes in the strife,
And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred,
Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear,
While you laboured in the dull routine of life
In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred.
p. 45You have offered up yourselves to save the world ”

“ Unless you are illustrating your desire for peace by a peaceful, love-ruled home,
You have no right to clamour for a cessation of hostilities among nations;
Nations are only chains of individuals.
p. 106When each individual expresses nothing but love and peace in his daily life, there will be no more war.
You who are loudly crying out for peace,
You who are wanting love to vanquish hate,
How is it in the four walls of your home
The while you wait? ”

“ They open up Pandora’s box before some chosen man;
And then, aloof, they wait and watch, to see if he will find
And wake the slumbering God that dwells in every mortal’s mind.
p. 35Erect, our modern Atlas stands, with brave uplifted head,
And there is courage in his eyes, if in his heart be dread.
Not dread of foes, but dread of friends, who may not pull together,
To bring the lurching ship of State safe through the stormy weather. ”

“ The hymn of hate, of men and gods, for all your deeds of lust,
For all your acts of cruelty and hell-concocted schemes
p. 47 (More hideous than the darkest plot of which a devil dreams)
Which sprang from your Medusa head before it touched the dust. ”

“ Don’t pass the buck.
p. 57SONG OF THE AVIATOR You may thrill with the speed of your thoroughbred steed,
You may laugh with delight as you ride the ocean,
You may rush afar in your touring car,
Leaping, sweeping, by things that are creeping—
But you never will know the joy of motion
Till you rise up over the earth some day,
And soar like an eagle, away—away.
High and higher above each spire,
Till lost to sight is the tallest steeple,
With the winds you chase in a valiant race,
Looping, swooping, where mountains are grouping,
Hailing them comrades, in place of people. ”

“ So hold your vision, and work and pray,
As you dream of the Home that is far away.
p. 63THE SWAN OF DIJON I was in Dijon when the war’s wild blast
Was at its loudest; when there was no sound
From dawn to dawn, save soldiers marching past,
Or rattle of their wagons in the street.
When every engine whistle would repeat
Persistently, with meaning tense, profound,
‘We carry men to slaughter’ or ‘we bring
Remnants of men back as war’s offering.’
And there in Dijon, the out-gazing eye
Grew weary of the strife-suggesting scene ”

“ That gifted people were quite sure to be mis-mated.
They talked of servants, menus, and disease,
And operations. Each one came in line
With some astounding tale to tell of these,
And of her surgeon’s skill, which seemed divine.
p. 96But of that vast Domain where live our dead
And where we all are hurrying, no word was said.
When we know that goal awaits each one of us a little farther on,
When we know how an ever-increasing company of friends is gathered there,
Why do we not speak of it in our daily conversation?
Why do we not familiarise our minds with thoughts of worlds unseen? ”

“ Than to burrow too long like a worm in the sod.
p. 59THE STEVEDORES We are the army stevedores, lusty and virile and strong,
We are given the hardest work of the war, and the hours are long.
We handle the heavy boxes, and shovel the dirty coal;
While soldiers and sailors work in the light, we burrow below like a mole.
But somebody has to do this work, or the soldiers could not fight!
And whatever work is given a man, is good if he does it right.
We are the army stevedores, and we are volunteers. ”

“ America will not turn back.
She will not turn until that hour
When thunders through the world
The crash of tyrant monarchies
By Freedom’s hand down-hurled.
p. 19While Labour’s voice from sea to sea
Sings loud, ‘My country, ’tis of thee.’
Then will our fair Columbia turn,
While all wars’ clamours cease,
And with our banner lifted high
Proclaim, ‘Let there be Peace.’
But till that glorious day shall dawn
She will march on, she will march on.
p. 20WAR I There is no picturesqueness and no glory,
No halo of romance, in war to-day.
It is a hideous thing ”

“ He saw the morbid craze to kill, which Christian men called sport.
And then God hid His grieving face behind a wall of cloud,
On earth they said, ‘A thunder-storm’—but God had wept aloud.
p. 82IT MAY BE Let us be silent for a little while;
Let us be still and listen. We may hear
Echoes from other worlds not far a way.
City on city rising, steeple out-topping steeple,
Gaining and hoarding and spending, and armies on battle bent,
People and people and people, and ever more human people—
This is not all of creation, this is not all that was meant! ”

“ So shines the golden side of this black shield of strife.
p. 89WIDOWS The world was widowed by the death of Christ:
Vainly its suffering soul for peace has sought
And found it not.
For nothing, nothing, nothing has sufficed
To bring back comfort to the stricken house
From whence has gone the Master and the Spouse.
In its long widowhood the world has striven
To find diversion. ”

“ And it shall last while countless ages roll.
p. 87At the loud call of drums, out of the idler and the weakling comes
The hero valiant with self-sacrifice, ready to pay the price
War asks of men, to help a suffering world.
And out of the arms of pleasure, where they whirled
In wild unreasoning mirth, behold the splendid women of the earth
Living new selfless lives—the toiling mothers, sister, daughters, wives
Of men gone forth as target for the foe.
Ah, now we know
Man is divine ”

“ But the old, old sin of the senses
Can tell what that word may mean
To the soldiers’ wives and to innocent lives,
And I will come back clean.’
p. 41CAMOUFLAGE Camouflage is all the rage.
Ladies in their fight with age—
Soldiers in their fight with foes—
Demagogues who mask and pose
In the guise of statesmen—girls
Black of eyes with golden curls—
Politicians, votes in mind,
Smiling, affable and kind,
All use camouflage to-day.
As you go upon your way,
Walk with caution, move with care;
Camouflage is everywhere! ”

“ War from the world shall be driven,
From evil shall come forth good;
And men shall make ready for Heaven
Through living in Brotherhood.
p. 29‘FLOWERS OF FRANCE’ DECORATION POEM FOR SOLDIERS’ GRAVES, TOURS,
FRANCE, MAY 30, 1918
Flowers of France in the Spring,
Your growth is a beautiful thing ”

“ While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
p. 48DEAR MOTHERLAND OF FRANCE DEDICATED TO
THE MEN AND WOMEN OF FRANCE
Our Motherland, dear Motherland,
The source of beauty and of Art,
Who but thy children understand
The love which permeates each heart! ”

“ While those whose greedy, selfish lives had thrust the toilers there,
He saw whirled down broad avenues, clothed all with raiment fair.
He saw in homes made beautiful with all that gold can give
Unhappy souls at odds with life, not knowing how to live.
He saw fair, pampered women turn from motherhood’s sweet joy,
Obsessed with methods to prevent or mania to destroy.
p. 81He saw men sell their souls to vice and avarice and greed ”

“ They were the result of coming into close contact with the soldiers’ mind and heart, and were intentionally expressed in the simplest manner, without any consideration of methods approved by modern critics. The fact that I have been asked to autograph scores of copies of many of these verses (and one of them to the extent of 350 copies) is more gratifying to me than would be the highest encomiums of the purely literary critic. ”