POEMS OF SENTIMENT

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

GAY AND HANCOCK LTD. 34 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN LONDON

1919

[All rights reserved]

p. ivPublished 1909 Reprinted 1909 (twice), 1910 (twice), 1911 [twice], 1912, 1913, 1914, 1916, 1918, 1919

N.B.—The only volumes of my poems issued with my approval in the British Empire are published by Messrs. Gay & Hancock.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

p. vCONTENTS

PAGE

Double Carnations

1

Never Mind

3

Two Women

5

It All Will Come Out Right

7

A Warning

9

Shrines

10

The Watcher

11

Swimming Song

13

The Law

15

Love, Time, and Will

18

The Two Ages

20

Couleur de Rose

23

Last Love

25

Life’s Track

26

An Ode to Time

28

p. viRegret and Remorse

31

Easter Morn

32

Blind

33

The Yellow-covered Almanac

35

The Little White Hearse

38

Realisation

40

Success

41

The Lady and the Dame

43

Heaven and Hell

45

Love’s Supremacy

46

The Eternal Will

48

Insight

50

A Woman’s Love

52

The Pæan of Peace

54

“Has Been”

56

Duty’s Path

57

March

59

The End of the Summer

60

Sun Shadows

63

“He that Looketh”

64

An Erring Woman’s Love

65

A Song of Republics

81

p. viiMemorial Day—1892

85

When baby Souls Sail Out

87

To Another Woman’s Baby

89

Diamonds

90

Rubies

90

Sapphires

91

Turquoise

91

Reform

92

A Minor Chord

93

Death’s Protest

94

September

95

Wail of an Old-timer

96

Was, Is, and Yet-to-be

98

Mistakes

100

Dual

101

The All-creative Spark

103

Be not Content

105

Action

107

Two Roses

108

Satiety

110

A Solar Eclipse

111

A Suggestion

112

p. viiiThe Depths

113

Life’s Opera

114

The Salt Sea-wind

115

New Year

116

Concentration

118

Thoughts

119

Luck

120

p. 1DOUBLE CARNATIONS

A wild Pink nestled in a garden bed, A rich Carnation flourished high above her, One day he chanced to see her pretty head And leaned and looked again, and grew to love her.

The Moss (her humble mother) saw with fear The ardent glances of the princely stranger; With many an anxious thought and dewy tear She sought to hide her darling from this danger.

The gardener-guardian of this noble bud A cruel trellis interposed between them. No common Pink should mate with royal blood, He said, and sought in every way to wean them.

p. 2The poor Pink pined and faded day by day: Her restless lover from his prison bower Called in a priestly bee who passed that way, And sent a message to the sorrowing flower.

The fainting Pink wept as the bee drew near, Droning his prayers, and begged him to confess her. Her weary mother, over-taxed by fear, Slept, while the priest leaned low to shrive and bless her.

But lo! ere long the tale went creeping out, The rich Carnation and the Pink were married! The cunning bee had brought the thing about While Mamma Moss in Slumber’s arms had tarried.

And proud descendants of that loving pair, The offspring of that true and ardent passion, Are famous for their beauty everywhere, And leaders in the floral world of fashion.

p. 3NEVER MIND

Whatever your work and whatever its worth, No matter how strong or clever, Some one will sneer if you pause to hear, And scoff at your best endeavour. For the target art has a broad expanse, And wherever you chance to hit it, Though close be your aim to the bull’s-eye fame, There are those who will never admit it.

Though the house applauds while the artist plays, And a smiling world adores him, Somebody is there with an ennuied air To say that the acting bores him. For the tower of art has a lofty spire, With many a stair and landing, And those who climb seem small oft-time To one at the bottom standing.

p. 4So work along in your chosen niche With a steady purpose to nerve you; Let nothing men say who pass your way Relax your courage or swerve you. The idle will flock by the Temple of Art For just the pleasure of gazing; But climb to the top and do not stop, Though they may not all be praising.

p. 5TWO WOMEN

I know two women, and one is chaste And cold as the snows on a winter waste, Stainless ever in act and thought (As a man, born dumb, in speech errs not). But she has malice toward her kind, A cruel tongue and a jealous mind. Void of pity and full of greed, She judges the world by her narrow creed; A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate, Yet she holds the key to “Society’s” Gate.

The other woman, with heart of flame, Went mad for a love that marred her name: And out of the grave of her murdered faith She rose like a soul that has passed through death. Her aims are noble, her pity so broad, It covers the world like the mercy of God. p. 6A soother of discord, a healer of woes, Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes. The worthier life of the two, no doubt, And yet “Society” locks her out.

p. 7IT ALL WILL COME OUT RIGHT

Whatever is a cruel wrong, Whatever is unjust, The honest years that speed along Will trample in the dust. In restless youth I railed at fate With all my puny might, But now I know if I but wait It all will come out right.

Though Vice may don the judge’s gown And play the censor’s part, And Fact be cowed by Falsehood’s frown And Nature ruled by art; Though Labour toils through blinding tears And idle Wealth is might, I know the honest, earnest years Will bring it all out right.

p. 8Though poor and loveless creeds may pass For pure religion’s gold; Though ignorance may rule the mass While truth meets glances cold, I know a law complete, sublime, Controls us with its might, And in God’s own appointed time It all will come out right.

p. 9A WARNING

There was a flame, oh! such a tiny flame— One fleeting hour had spanned its birth and death, But for a silly child with playful breath Who fanned it into fury. It became A mighty conflagration. Ah, the cost! House, home, and thoughtless child alike were lost.

Lady beware. Fan not the harmless glow Of admiration into ardent love, Lean not with red curled smiling lips above The flickering spark of sinless flame, and blow, Lest in the sudden waking of desire Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire.

p. 10SHRINES

About a holy shrine or sacred place, Where many hearts have bowed in earnest prayer, The loveliest spirits congregate from space, And bring their sweet, uplifting influence there.

If in your chamber you pray oft and well, Soon will these angel-messengers arrive And make their home with you, and where they dwell All worthy toil and purposes shall thrive.

I know a humble, plainly furnished room, So thronged with presences serene and bright, The heaviest heart therein forgets its gloom As in some gorgeous temple filled with light.

Those heavenly spirits, beauteous and divine, Live only in an atmosphere of prayer; Make for yourself a sacred, fervent shrine, And you will find them swiftly flocking there.

p. 11THE WATCHER

She gave her soul and body for a carriage, And livened lackey with a vacant grin, And all the rest—house, lands—and called it marriage: The bargain made, a husband was thrown in.

And now, despite her luxury, she’s faded, Gone is the bloom that was so fresh and bright; She has the dark-rimmed eye, the countenance jaded, Of one who watches with the sick at night.

Ah, heaven, she does! her sick heart, sick and dying, Beyond the aid of human skill to save, In that cold room her breast is hourly lying, And her grim thoughts crowd near to dig its grave.

p. 12And yet it lingers, suffering and wailing, As sick hearts will that feed upon despair, And that lone watcher, unrelieved, is paling With vigils that no pitying soul can share.

Ah, lady! it is hardly what you thought it, This life of luxury and social power; You gave yourself as principal, and bought it, But God extracts the interest hour by hour.

p. 13SWIMMING SONG

I am coming, coming to thee, My strong-armed lover, the Sea! On thy great broad breast I will lie and rest, And thou shalt talk to me.

I have come to thee, all unsought, I have stolen an hour from thought, And peace and power thou canst give in that hour, Which thy rival Earth gives not.

Alone here, under the sky, And the whole world drifting by! Thy breast of brine thrills close to mine, While the cloudless sun sails high.

I fly, but thou givest chase— Thy kisses are on my face! Be bold and free as thou wilt, O Sea, There is life in thy close embrace.

p. 14Throat and cheek and tress Are damp where thy salt lips press! There is strength and bliss in thy daring kiss, And joy in thy bold caress.

And what is the Earth to me! I have left it all, O Sea! With its dust and soil and strife and toil, For one glad hour with thee.