Life poems

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Bird Of Hope

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

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

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Song Of The Spirit

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

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.

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Advice

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

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.

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I Will Be Worthy Of It

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

It
I may not reach the heights I seek,
My untried strength may fail me;
Or, halfway up the mountain peak

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A March Snow

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Let the old snow be covered with the new:
The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
Let it be hidden wholly from our view
By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet
Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.

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As You Go Through Life

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life;
And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
And look for the virtue behind them.

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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.

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Joy

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

My heart is like a little bird
That sits and sings for very gladness.
Sorrow is some forgotten word,
And so, except in rhyme, is sadness.

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One Of Us Two

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The day will dawn when one of us shall hearken
In vain to hear a voice that has grown dumb.
And morns will fade, noons pale, and shadows darken,
While sad eyes watch for feet that never come.

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A Holiday

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The Husband
Impossible! You women do not know
The toil it takes to make a business grow.
I cannot join you until very late,
So hurry home, nor let the dinner wait.

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Life's Scars

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

They say the world is round, and yet
I often think it square,
So many little hurts we get
From corners here and there.

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A Grey Mood

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
Of this sad little farce called existence,
We are sure that the future will bring one thing,
And that is the grave in the distance.

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Angel Or Demon

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

You call me an angel of love and of light,
A being of goodness and heavenly fire,
Sent out from God’s kingdom to guide you aright,
In paths where your spirits may mount and aspire.
You say that I glow like a star on its course,
Like a ray from the alter, a spark from the source.

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After the Engagement

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Well, Mabel, 'tis over and ended---
The ball I wrote was to be;
And oh! it was perfectly splendid---
If you could have been here to see.

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"It Might Have Been"

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."
No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
He only might who is.

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Poverty And Wealth

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The stork flew over a town one day,
And back of each wing an infant lay;
One to a rich man’s home he brought,
And one he left at a labourer’s cot.

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A Woman's Love

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

So vast the tide of Love within me surging,
It overflows like some stupendous sea,
The confines of the Present and To-be;
And 'gainst the Past's high wall I feel it urging,
As it would cry "Thou too shalt yield to me!"

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A Golden Day

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."

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Sorry

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down life’s way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.

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Love Much

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Cast sweets into its cup whene’er you can.
No heart so hard, but love at last may win it.
Love is the great primæval cause of man.
All hate is foreign to the first great plan.