Death poems
/ page 519 of 560 /
Bohemia
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Bohemia, o'er thy unatlassed borders
How many cross, with half-reluctant feet,
And unformed fears of dangers and disorders,
To find delights, more wholesome and more sweet
Than ever yet were known to the "elite."
Preparation
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
We must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,
Love Will Wane
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When your love begins to wane,
Spare me from the cruel pain
Of all speech that tells me so -
Spare me words, for I shall know,
A Waltz-Quadrille
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,
As we floated away, at the callers will,
Through the intricate, mazy dance together.
Carlos
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Last night I knelt low at my ladys feet.
One soft, caressing hand played with my hair,
And one I kissed and fondled. Kneeling there,
I deemed my meed of happiness complete.
Ad Finum
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion
And gathered them close in a grip of death;
Here And Now
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Here, in the heart of the world,
Here, in the noise and the din,
Here, where our spirits were hurled
To battle with sorrow and sin,
Fading
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All in the beautiful Autumn weather
One thought lingers with me and stays;
Death and winter are coming together,
Though both are veiled by the amber haze
I Told You
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I told you the winter would go, love,
I told you the winter would go,
That he'd flee in shame when the south wind came,
And you smiled when I told you so.
Fame
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
If I should die, to-day,
To-morrow, maybe, the world would see
Would waken from sleep, and say,
"Why here was talent! why here was worth!
Desolation
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain
Of love unrequited, or cold deaths woe,
Is sweet, compared to that hour when we know
That some grand passion is on the wane.
Beyond
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
It seemeth such a little way to me
Across to that strange country the Beyond;
And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
The home of those whom I am so fond,
They make it seem familiar and most dear,
As journeying friends bring distant regions near.
Custer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
BOOK FIRST.I.ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Love Song
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Once in the worlds first prime,
When nothing lived or stirred,
Nothing but new-born Time,
Nor was there even a bird
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.
All That Love Asks
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All that I ask, 'says Love, 'is just to stand
And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes;
For in their depths lies largest Paradise.
Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand
Be granted me, then joy I thought complete
Were still more sweet.
Are you Loving Enough?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Are you loving enough? There is some one dear,
Some one you hold as the dearest of all
In the holiest shrine of your heart.
Are you making it known? Is the truth of it clear
The Spectacles
© Jean de La Fontaine
IN former times was introduced a lad
Among the nuns, and like a maiden clad;
A charming girl by all he was believed;
Fifteen his age; no doubts were then conceived;
Coletta was the name the youth had brought,
And, till he got a beard, was sister thought.
The Sick Abbess
© Jean de La Fontaine
EXAMPLE often proves of sov'reign use;
At other times it cherishes abuse;
'Tis not my purpose, howsoe'er, to tell
Which of the two I fancy to excel.
The Psalter
© Jean de La Fontaine
THE mother abbess sermonized and fired,
And seemed as if her tongue would ne'er be tired.
Again the culprit said, your Psalter, pray,
Good madam, haste to set the proper way;
On which the sisters looked, both young and old
THOSE 'gan to laugh, while THESE were heard to scold.
