Ella Wheeler Wilcox

(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919 / Johnstown Center / Rock County / Wisconsin)

Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

41. The Hen's Complaint 4/2/2010
42. The Jealous Gods 4/2/2010
43. The Foolish Elm 4/2/2010
44. The Cry Of The People 4/2/2010
45. The Girl Of The U.S.A. 4/2/2010
46. The Coming Man 4/2/2010
47. The Brewer's Dog 4/2/2010
48. Our Lives 4/2/2010
49. Perfectness 4/2/2010
50. Over The May Hill 4/2/2010
51. Queries 4/2/2010
52. On Seeing The Diabutsu--At Kamakura, Japan 4/2/2010
53. One Woman's Memory 4/2/2010
54. The Creed 4/2/2010
55. The Valley Of Fear 4/2/2010
56. They Shall Not Win 4/2/2010
57. Ph. Best & Co.'s Lager-Beer 4/2/2010
58. Three Women 4/2/2010
59. The Wheel Of The Breast 4/2/2010
60. The Mother's Prayer 4/2/2010
61. The Island Of Endless Play 4/2/2010
62. The King Of Candyland 4/2/2010
63. Only A Simple Rhyme 4/2/2010
64. Over The Water 4/2/2010
65. Rangoon 4/2/2010
66. Peek-A-Boo 4/2/2010
67. Speak 4/2/2010
68. Ten Thousand Men A Day 4/2/2010
69. Old Rhythm And Rhyme 4/2/2010
70. New Year 4/2/2010
71. The Giddy Girl 4/2/2010
72. The Destroyer 4/2/2010
73. The Farewell To Clarimonde 4/2/2010
74. The Boys' And Girls' Thanksgiving Of 1892 4/2/2010
75. The Way To Wonderland 4/2/2010
76. The Stevedores 4/2/2010
77. The Temperance Army 4/2/2010
78. The Land Of The Gone-Away Souls 4/2/2010
79. The Watcher 4/2/2010
80. The Phantom Ball 4/2/2010
Best Poem of Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Solitude

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink...

Read the full of Solitude

Change

Changed? Yes, I will confess it – I have changed.
I do not love you in the old fond way.
I am your friend still – time has not estranged
One kindly feeling of that vanished day.

But the bright glamour which made life a dream,
The rapture of that time, its sweet content,
Like visions of a sleeper’s brain they seem –
And yet I cannot tell you how they went.

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