Ella Wheeler Wilcox

“ How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower--there--no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice ”

“ And at noon and at night my heart takes warning,
For the maple leaves fall down and down.
The sumac bushes are all a-flaming!
The world is scarlet, and gold, and green,
And my darling's beautiful cheeks are shaming
The painted bloom of the ballroom queen.
Why talk of winter, amid such glory?
Why speak of death of a thing so fair?
Oh, but the forest king white and hoary
Is weaving a mantle for both to wear.
God! if I could by the soft deceiving
Of forests of splendor and cheeks of bloom
Lull my heart into sweet believing
Just for a moment and drown my gloom ”

“ And he strikes his name from the roll of drunkards,
To carve it again on the heights of fame,
"Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging"--
Glory to God, he has snapped the chain
That bound him with fetters of steel and iron;
And "he that was lost is found again."
Down with the cup, though it gleams like rubies!
Down with the glass, though it sparkle and shine!
"It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder"--
There is shame, and sorrow, and woe in wine.
Keen though the sword be, and deadly its mission,
Three times its number the wine cup has slain. ”

“ Thus to shrine you in my heart?
Oh! I struggled frantically--
Bade your image to depart.
There are hearts that love will pierce,
Then depart, and die at will;
Such as mine burns long and fierce,
Till the heart is cold and still,
Dropping, sinking off to rest,
Fearing naught of pain or strife:
Kiss me-clasp me to your breast,
This is all I ask of life.
THE KING AND SIREN.
The harsh king--Winter--sat upon the hills,
And reigned, and ruled the earth right royally. ”

“ The bee leaves his hive for the field of red clover
And the vale where the daisies bloom white as the snow,
And a mantle of warm yellow sunshine hangs over
The calm little pond, where the pale lilies grow.
In the woodland beyond it, a thousand gay voices
Are singing in chorus some jubilant air.
The bird and the bee, and all nature rejoices,
The world is so bright, and the earth is so fair.
I am glad as a child, in this beautiful weather;
I have tossed all my burdens and trials away;
My heart is as light-yes, as light as a feather ”

“ In the roar of the surf, and the rush of the river,
In the rustle of leaves and the fall of the rain,
And on the low breezes I catch the refrain.
From the vapors that frame and envelope the earth,
And beyond, from the realms where my spirit had birth,
From the mists of the land and the fogs of the sea,
Forever and ever the song comes to me.
I know not its wording--its import I know--
For the rhythm is broken, the measure runs low,
When vexed or allured by the things of this life
My soul is merged into its pleasures or strife. ”

“ Full many an hour of gloom and sorrow;
For Charlie, dwelling with the blest,
Joy only, through an endless morrow.
Walking the golden streets above,
He watches o'er us ever more.
God grant through Christ's redeeming love,
We yet may meet him on that shore.
The thought of death is very sweet--
The grave can have no chill or gloom
For those who have a child to meet
Beyond in fields of living bloom. ”

“ They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning
Oh, what is so sweet, as a sweet young love f
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken--
Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing--
And what is so pale, as a pale old moon!
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing
Woe that the change should come so soon. ”

“ Oh, white, fleecy clouds that are drooping above me,
Hark, hark to my pleadings, and answer my sighs,
And let down the beautiful snow, if you love me,
To cover my wounds from all pitying eyes.
"I am hurled from my throne, but not hurled down forever;
I shall rise from the dust; I shall live down my woes--
But my heart lies to-day, like a dumb, frozen river;
When to thaw out and flow again, God only knows.
Oh, sprites of the air! I beseech you to weave me
A mantle of white snow, and beautiful rime
To cover my unsightly ruins ”

“ In thrills and quavers, clear, mellow and strong,
Till the glad air quivered and rang with song.
I said to the orchard, "Blow!"
I said to the meadow, "Bloom!"
And the trees stood white, like brides in a row,
And the breeze was laden with rare perfume.
And over the meadows, in lights and shadows,
The daisies white and violets blue,
And yellow-haired buttercups blossomed and grew.
I called to a hope, that died
With the death of the flowers and grass,
"Come back! for the river is free to glide--
The robin sings, and the daisies bloom." Alas! ”

“ And all the bees chant of the grave and death--
Something is missing from the earth. One morn
The angels called a new name on the roll;
A spirit soldier to their ranks was borne,
And all Christ's army welcomed the pure young soul.
He died. Two little words, but only God
Can understand the awful depths of woe
They hold for those who pass beneath the rod,
Praying for strength, from Him who aimed the blow. ”

“ Or it may be my heart is too full to hear them
With the eager ear that it lent of old.
It is full of the joy of to-day--and to-morrow,
Which smiles with a promise of fresh delight;
And yet my honey is galled with sorrow
As I think of the loved ones out of sight.
I wonder so soon if the dear old places
Are growing used to my absent feet,
I wonder if newer and fairer faces
To the hearts that housed me seem just as sweet.
I know on the world's great field of battle
When a comrade falls out how the ranks close in ”

“ That each sorrow has its purpose--
By the sorrowing oft unguessed,
But as sure as the Sun brings morning,
Whatever is--is best.
I know that each sinful action,
As sure as the night brings shade,
Is sometime, somewhere punished,
Tho' the hour be long delayed.
I know that the soul is aided
Sometimes by the heart's unrest,
And to grow means often to suffer--
But whatever is--is best. ”

“ Till I searched the wide storehouse of happiness over.
It is filled from the cellar well up to the skies,
With things meant to gladden the heart and the eyes.
The doors are unlocked, you can enter each room,
That lies like a beautiful garden in bloom.
Yet life has its shadow, as well as its sun;
Earth has its storehouse of joy and of sorrow. ”

“ Brave heart, whose bed has now been made
A twelve month neath the grasses,
Checkered by sunshine and by shade,
Where every breeze that passes
Hushes its song and sighs along,
With sorrow in its cadence,
Not thinking how thy sainted brow
Glows with a Christly radiance.
Do spirits hover in the air?
Do the dear dead ones never
Float on the gentle zyphers near
Out of the vast forever!
Somehow to-day my thoughts will stray
To you, oh friend, in slumber! ”

“ And brought new life and strength to blade and bloom,
So words of thine came over miles to me,
Fresh from the mighty sea, a true friend's heart,
And brought me hope, and strength, and swept away
The dusty webs that human spiders spun
Across my path. Friend--and the word means much--
So few there are who reach like thee, a hand
Up over all the barking curs of spite
And give the clasp, when most its need is felt ”

“ Oh, they will break her heart.
Who will run on errands, and romp and play,
And mimic the robins the livelong day?
Still the little bird sings
And flutters her wings;
"God reigns in heaven, and He will keep
The dear little children that fall asleep."
What can she know of these sorrowful things?
Grandmother sits by the open door,
And her tears fall down like rain.
Was there ever a household so sad before,
Will it ever be glad again?
Many unwelcome thoughts come flitting
Into the granddame's mind.
Who will take up the stitches she drops in knitting? ”

“ I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."
Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart,
Today is joy undimmed, complete;
In tears or pain we have no part;
The act of breathing is so sweet,
We care no higher joy to name. ”

“ I am care-free, and careless, and happy to-day.
Can it be there approaches a dark, drear to-morrow?
Can shadows e'er fall on this beautiful earth!
Ah! to-day is my own! no forebodings of sorrow
Shall darken my skies, or shall dampen my mirth. ”

“ Friend, newly found, accept my full heart's thanks.
THE CHANGE.
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:
Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
"My life," she said, "is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
Bring me a change, oh changeful moon!
"Who would drift on a lake forever?
Young hearts weary--it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river ”

“ And yet he lived; oh, young heart, strong and brave!
Thank God, who heard the oft repeated prayer;
Thank God, he does not fill a Southern grave;
That when he died, the loved ones gathered round,
And eased the anguish of those last, sad hours;
That gentle hands can keep the precious mound
All green with mosses, and abloom with flowers.
He was so young and fair; and life was sweet.
Christ give the mourners strength to drain the cup.
He went to make the Heavenly ranks complete.
God sent the angel Death, to bear him up
So young, and fair and brave; so loved by all ”

“ Has fashioned this strange earth by some sure plan.
Bow low, bow low to those majestic forces
Nor dare to doubt their wisdom--puny man.
You cannot put one little star in motion,
You cannot shape one single forest leaf,
Nor fling a mountain up, nor sink an ocean,
Presumptuous pigmy, large with unbelief.
You cannot bring one dawn of regal splendor
Nor bid the day to shadowy twilight fall,
Nor send the pale moon forth with radiance tender,
And dare you doubt the One who has done all?
"So much is wrong, there is such pain--such sinning." ”

“ And so she bound him, in her Siren wiles,
And stole his strength, with every glance she gave,
And stabbed him through and through with tender smiles,
And with her loving words she dug his grave;
And then she left him: old, and weak, and blind,
And unlocked all the rivers, lakes and rills,
While the queen Spring, with her whole troop, behind,
Of flowers, and birds, and bees, came over the hills.
SUNSHINE AND SHADOW.
Life has its shadows, as well as its sun ”

“ And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.
There's the ghost of a Joy,
A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,
And the hands that destroy
Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.
There's the ghost of a love,
Born with Joy, reared with Hope, died in pain and unrest ”

“ Or the screech-owl's cry, in the outer gloom.
A little child on the sun-checked floor,
A broken toy, and a tear-stained face,
A young life clouded, a young heart sore;
And the great clock, time, ticks on apace.
A maiden weeping in bitter pain.
Two white hands clasped on an aching brow. ”

“ My hands are as weak as a babe's, new-born;
I must yield her up to One who gave her
And wait for the resurrection morn.
ALL THE WORLD.
All the world is full of babies,
Sobbing, sighing everywhere,
Looking out with eyes of terror,
Beating at the empty air.
Do they see the strife before them,
That they sob and tremble so? ”

“ Deeper, and darklier grand, the bright clouds grew,
And red and amber streaks shot through the North.
The very light of heaven was shining through
The crystal West. She reached her thin hand forth
And a strange splendor fell upon her face;
And her dark eyes glowed with unearthly light.
I knew it came from God's celestial plane,
Where there is neither sorrow, death, nor night.
"Oh love!" she cried, "my struggling spirit yearns
To leave this clay and go across the sea,
Look! how to molten gold the whole sky turns ”

“ Been the scourge of the country, for many a day.
He was lawless and wild;
Man, woman, or child
Met no mercy, no pity, if found in his path;
He was worse than a beast of the woods, in his wrath.
And yet--to be hung,
Oh, my God! to be swung
By the neck to, and fro, for the rabble to see--
The thought sickens me.
Thirty minutes past nine. How the time hurries by,
But a half hour remains, at ten he will die.
Die? No! he'll be killed!
For God never willed
Men should die in this way. ”

“ For life is full of promise; but, my friend,
Canst thou not help me in my best desire?
O! lean, and lift me higher.
Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise,
And quick to understand and sympathize
With all a full soul's needs. It must be so ”