A Grey Mood Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Grey Mood

Rating: 2.9


As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
Of this sad little farce called existence,
We are sure that the future will bring one thing,
And that is the grave in the distance.
And so when our lives run along all wrong,
And nothing seems real or certain,
We can comfort ourselves with the thought (or not)
Of that spectre behind the curtain.

But we haven’t much time to repine or whine,
Or to wound or jostle each other;
And the hour for us each is to-day, I say,
If we mean to assist a brother.
And there is no pleasure that earth gives birth,
But the worry it brings is double;
And all that repays for the strife of life,
Is helping some soul in trouble.

I tell you, if I could go back the track
To my life’s morning hour,
I would not set forth, seeking name or fame,
Or that poor bauble called power.
I would be like the sunlight, and live to give;
I would lend, but I would not borrow;
Nor would I be blind and complain of pain,
Forgetting the meaning of sorrow.

This world is a vaporous jest at best,
Tossed off by the gods in laughter;
And a cruel attempt at wit were it
If nothing better came after.
It is reeking with hearts that ache and break,
Which we ought to comfort and strengthen,
As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
And the shadows behind us lengthen.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Shaun Cronick 29 June 2020

I'll say it again a great poem so cleverly written with its superb rhyme pattern and impressive structure. Poetry genius in spades.

7 0 Reply
Shaun Cronick 26 July 2019

Brilliant poem again Ella. Look closely at end lines 1,3,5,7 of every stanza. EVERY stanza. Unbelievable structure and beat. What absolute genius.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Johnstown Center / Rock County / Wisconsin
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