Ella Wheeler Wilcox – A Pin

 Oh, I know a certain lady who is reckoned with the good,
Yet she fills me with more terror than a raging lion would.
The little chills run up and down my spine whene’er we meet,
Though she seems a gentle creature, and she’s very trim and neat.

And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged sin,
But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin.
And she pricks you and she sticks you in a way that can’t be said.
If you seek for what has hurt you – why, you cannot find the head.

But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain.
If anybody asks you why, you really can’t explain!
A pin is such a tiny thing, of that there is no doubt,
Yet when it’s sticking in your flesh you’re wretched till it’s out.

She’s wonderfully observing – when she meets a pretty girl,
She is always sure to tell her if her hair is out of curl;
And she is so sympathetic to her friend who’s much admires,
She is often heard remarking, ‘Dear, you look so worn and tired.’

And she is an honest critic, for on yesterday she eyed
The new dress I was airing with a woman’s natural pride,
And she said, ‘Oh, how becoming! ’ and then gently added, ‘it
Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit.’

Then she said, ‘If you heard me yester eve, I’m sure, my friend,
You would say I was a champion who knows how to defend.’
And she left me with the feeling – most unpleasant, I aver –
That the whole world would despise me is it hadn’t been for her.

Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way
She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day.
And the hat that was imported (and cost me half a sonnet) ,
With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery bonnet.

She is always bright and smiling, sharp and pointed for a thrust;
Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather rust.
Oh! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin
To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – Life Is A Privilege

 Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,
To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow
With great ambitions – in one hour to know
The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,
How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose
The mysteries of the human mind unclose.
What marvels lie in the earth, and air, and sea!
What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!
What sunny roads of happiness lead out
Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!
And what large pleasures smile upon and bless
The busy avenues of usefulness!

Life is a privilege. Thought the noontide fades
And shadows fall along the winding glades,
Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,
Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.
Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,
And in the serious hours of life we find
Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth
And majesty to this brief span of earth.

Life is a privilege. If some sad fate
Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,
If men forsake us and as shadows fall,
Still does the supreme privilege of all
Come in that reaching upward of the soul
To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,
And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod
Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – A Lover's Quarrel

We two were lovers, the Sea and I;
We plighted our troth 'neath a summer sky.

And all through the riotous, ardent weather
We dreamed, and loved, and rejoiced together.

At times my lover would rage and storm.
I said: 'No matter, his heart is warm.'

Whatever his humour, I loved his ways,
And so we lived through the golden days.

I know not the manner it came about,
But in the autumn we two fell out.

Yet this I know--'twas the fault of the Sea,
And was not my fault, that he changed to me.

I lingered as long as a woman may
To find what her lover will do or say.

But he met my smiles with a sullen frown,
And so I turned to the wooing Town.

Oh, bold was this suitor, and blithe as bold!
His look was as bright as the Sea's was cold.

As the Sea was sullen, the Town was gay;
He made me forget for a winter day.

For a winter day and a winter night
He laughed my sorrow away from sight.

And yet, in spite of his mirth and cheer,
I knew full well he was insincere.

And when the young buds burst on the tree,
The old love woke in my heart for the Sea.

Pride was forgotten--I knew, I knew,
That the soul of the Sea, like my own, was true.

I heard him calling, and lo! I came,
To find him waiting, for ever the same.

And when he saw me, with murmurs sweet
He ran to meet me, and fell at my feet.

And so again 'neath a summer sky
We have plighted our troth, the Sea and I.
 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – America Will Not Turn Back - Woodrow Wilson

America will not turn back;

She did not idly start,

But weighed full carefully and well

Her grave, important part.

She chose the part of Freedom's friend,

And will pursue it, to the end.

Great Liberty, who guards her gates,

Will shine upon her course,

And light the long, adventurous path

With radiance from God's Source.

And though blood dye that ocean track,

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.

While 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.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – Let Us Give Thanks

For the courage which comes when we call,

While troubles like hailstones fall;

For the help that is somehow nigh,

In the deepest night when we cry;

For the path that is certainly shown

When we pray in the dark alone,

Let us give thanks.

For the knowledge we gain if we wait

And bear all the buffets of fate;

For the vision that beautifies sight

If we look under wrong for the right;

For the gleam of the ultimate goal

That shines on each reverent soul:

Let us give thanks.

For the consciousness stirring in creeds

That love is the thing the world needs;

For the cry of the travailing earth

That is giving a new faith birth;

For the God we are learning to find

In the heart and the soul and the mind:

Let us give thanks.

For the growth of the spirit through pain,

Like a plant in the soil and the rain;

For the dropping of needless things

Which the sword of a sorrow brings;

For the meaning and purpose of life

Which dawns on us out of the strife:

Let us give thanks.

For the solace that comes to our grief

In knowing earth's season is brief;

For the certitude given by faith

Of the continents out beyond death;

For the glorious thought that each day

Is speeding us thereward away:

Let us give thanks.