Truth poems
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An Inspiration
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes
With fluttering flags and prancing nags
And echoing roll of drums.
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.
Love
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of souls towards the heights above,
The stronger this truth comes home to me---
That the Universe rests on the shoulders of love,
A love so limitless, deep, and broad,
That men have re-named it, and called it God.
"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.
Platonic
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I knew it the first of the summer,
I knew it the same at the end,
That you and your love were plighted,
But couldnt you be my friend?
Sorry
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down lifes way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.
All Roads That Lead To God Are Good
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All roads that lead to God are good.
What matters it, your faith, or mine?
Both centre at the goal divine
Of loves eternal Brotherhood.
The Truckers
© Jean de La Fontaine
ONCE there dwelled, near Rouen, (sapient clime)
Two villagers, whose wives were in their prime,
And rather pleasing in their shape and mien,
For those in whom refinement 's scarcely seen.
Each looker-on conceives, LOVE needs not greet
Such humble wights, as he would prelates treat.
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 Rhemese
© Jean de La Fontaine
THE wife just then, it seems, no servant kept;
More wine to get, she to the cellar stept.
But dreading ghosts, she Simonetta prayed;
To light her down, she was so much afraid.
The Progress Of Wit
© Jean de La Fontaine
DIVERTING in extreme there is a play,
Which oft resumes its fascinating sway;
Delights the sex, or ugly, fair, or sour;
By night or day:--'tis sweet at any hour.
The frolick, ev'ry where is known to fame;
Conjecture if you can, and tells its name.
The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba
© Jean de La Fontaine
WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.
The Picture
© Jean de La Fontaine
CATULLUS tells us, ev'ry matron sage
Will peep most willingly (whate'er her age),
At that gigantick gift, which Juno made,
To Venus' fruit, in gardens oft displayed.
If any belle recede, and shun the sight,
Dissimulation she supposes right.
The Old Man's Calendar
© Jean de La Fontaine
THIS calendar o'erspread with rubrick days;
She soon forgot and learn'd the pirate's ways;
The matrimonial zone aside was thrown,
And only mentioned where the fact was known:
The Nightingale
© Jean de La Fontaine
NO easy matter 'tis to hold,
Against its owner's will, the fleece
Who troubled by the itching smart
Of Cupid's irritating dart,
The Muleteer
© Jean de La Fontaine
THE Lombard princes oft pervade my mind;
The present tale Boccace relates you'll find;
Agiluf was the noble monarch's name;
Teudelingua he married, beauteous dame,
The last king's widow, who had left no heir,
And whose dominions proved our prince's share.
The Mandrake
© Jean de La Fontaine
OUR youth, Calimachus, no sooner came,
But he howe'er appeared to please the dame;
His camp he pitched and entered on the siege
Of fair Lucretia, faithful to her liege,
Who presently the haughty tigress played,
And sent him, like the rest, away dismayed.
The Magic Cup
© Jean de La Fontaine
YOUR wife the same; to make her, in your eye,
More beautiful 's the aim you may rely;
For, if unkind, she would a hag be thought,
Incapable soft love scenes to be taught.
These reasons make me to my thesis cling,--
To be a cuckold is a useful thing.
The Jealous Husband
© Jean de La Fontaine
HIS wife howe'er engaged his constant cares;
He counted e'en the number of her hairs;
And kept a hag who followed every hour,
Where'er she went, each motion to devour;
Duenna like, true semblance of a shade,
That never quits, yet moves as if afraid.
