All Poems

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Settle The Question Right

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes,
With flaunting flags and neighing nags
And echoing roll of drums;

My Home

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.

I Am

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Am
I know not whence I came,
I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here

Communism

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

When my blood flows calm as a purling river,
When my heart is asleep and my brain has sway,
It is then that I vow we must part for ever,
That I will forget you, and put you away

Our Blessings

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Sitting to-day in the sunshine,
That touched me with fingers of love,
I thought of the manifold blessings
God scatters on earth, from above;

If

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Dear love, if you and I could sail away,
With snowy pennons to the wind unfurled,
Across the waters of some unknown bay,
And find some island far from all the world;

Inspiration

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy,
Is inspiration, eager to pursue,
But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy,
Who gives herself to him who best doth woo.

Life Is A Privilege

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days
Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.
To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,
To feed with dreams the hearts perpetual fire,

Under the light of the silver moon
We two sat, when our hearts were young;
The night was warm with the breath of June,
And loud from the meadow the cricket sung,
And darker and deeper, oh, love, than the sea,
Were your dear eyes, as they beamed to me.

Momus, God Of Laughter

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.

Old Times

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Friend of my youth, let us talk of old times;
Of the long lost golden hours.
When "Winter" meant only Christmas chimes,
And "Summer" wreaths of flowers.

Life

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

All in the dark we grope along,
And if we go amiss
We learn at least which path is wrong,
And there is gain in this.

Sorrow's Uses

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The uses of sorrow I comprehend
Better and better at each years end.Deeper and deeper I seem to see
Why and wherefore it has to beOnly after the dark, wet days
Do we fully rejoice in the suns bright rays.Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast

Ambition's Trail

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

If all the end of this continuous striving
Were simply to attain,
How poor would seem the planning and contriving
The endless urging and the hurried driving
Of body, heart and brain!

Moon And Sea

You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:
The tide of hope swells high within my breast,
And hides the rough dark rocks of lifes unrest
When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.

Lost

You left me with the autumn time;
When the winter stripped the forest bare,
Then dressed it in his spotless rime;
When frosts were lurking in the air
You left me here and went away.
The winds were cold; you could not stay.

Bird Of Hope

Soar not too high, O bird of Hope!
Because the skies are fair;
The tempest may come on apace
And overcome thee there.

Song Of The Spirit

Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue
In phrases unwritten and measures unsung,
As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea,
Is the song that my spirit is singing to me.

Advice

I must do as you do? Your way I own
Is a very good way, and still,
There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
One over, one under the hill.

Thanksgiving

There's not a day in all the year
But holds some hidden pleasure,
And looking back, joys oft appear
To brim the past's wide measure.