Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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

Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

81. The Phantom Ball 4/2/2010
82. The Poor Little Toe 4/2/2010
83. The Dirge Of The Winds 4/2/2010
84. The Empty Bowl 4/2/2010
85. The Englishman 4/2/2010
86. Then And Now 4/2/2010
87. Passing The Buck 4/2/2010
88. Sunset 4/2/2010
89. One By One 4/2/2010
90. The Falling Of Thrones 4/2/2010
91. The Messenger 4/2/2010
92. The Hour 4/2/2010
93. There's Work To Be Done 4/2/2010
94. Older Than You 4/2/2010
95. Songs Of A Country Home 4/2/2010
96. Sonnet 4/2/2010
97. That's The Way 4/2/2010
98. The Two Ships 4/2/2010
99. The Suicide 4/2/2010
100. The Summer Girl 4/2/2010
101. The Song Of The Sandwich 4/2/2010
102. The Land Of Nowhere 4/2/2010
103. The Flowers Have Tender Little Souls 4/2/2010
104. The Black Charger 4/2/2010
105. The City 5/25/2015
106. Prayer 4/2/2010
107. The Needle And Thread 4/2/2010
108. The Rainbow Of Promise 4/2/2010
109. Dawn 12/7/2015
110. The Muse And The Poet 4/2/2010
111. The Truth Teller 4/2/2010
112. Only A Sad Mistake 4/2/2010
113. Fishing 3/4/2015
114. Sounds From The Baseball Field 4/2/2010
115. Spectres 4/2/2010
116. The Meeting Of The Centuries 4/2/2010
117. The Message 4/2/2010
118. The Ogre Slam-The-Door 4/2/2010
119. The Lost Garden 4/2/2010
120. The Maniac 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

Delilah

In the midnight of darkness and terror,
When I would grope nearer to God,
With my back to a record of error
And the highway of sin I have trod,
There comes to me shapes I would banish –
The shapes of the deeds I have done;
And I pray and I plead till they vanish –
All vanish and leave me, save one.

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