Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

Columbia, fair queen in your glory!
Columbia, the pride of the earth!
We crown you with song- wreath and story;
We honour the day of your birth!
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Wife
Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.
Tell me there are no memories of your past
That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.
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Love is enough. Let us not ask for gold.
Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;
In those serene, Arcadian days of old
Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress.
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The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,
As we floated away, at the caller’s will,
Through the intricate, mazy dance together.
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'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, friend, while I begin
And tell you what I see-
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Give us that grand word ‘woman’ once again,
And let’s have done with ‘lady’: one’s a term
Full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm,
Fit for the noblest use of tongue or pen;
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When the soft sweet wind o' the south went by,
I dwelt in the light of a dark brown eye;
And out where the robin sang his song,
We lived and loved, while the days were long.
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Sit still, I say, and dispense with heroics!
I hurt your wrists? Well, you have hurt me.
It is time you found out that all men are not stoics,
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Ah yes, I love you, and with all my heart;
Just as a weaker woman loves her own,
Better than I love my beloved art,
Which, until you came, reigned royally, alone,
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When you go away, my friend,
When you say your last good-bye,
Then the summer time will end,
And the winter will be nigh.
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