Poems of Cheer

Part 1

Transcribed from the 1914 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

POEMS OF CHEER

BY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD. 12 and 13, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN LONDON 1914

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THIS Volume contains the poems published under the title “Poems of Life,” with the exception of about half a dozen, which appear in my other volumes. I have also added a few new verses.

Any edition of my Poems published in Great Britain by any firm except Messrs. Gay and Hancock is pirated and not authentic.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

April 12th, 1910.

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I step across the mystic border-land, And look upon the wonder-world of Art. How beautiful, how beautiful its hills! And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!

The winding paths that lead up to the heights Are polished by the footsteps of the great. The mountain-peaks stand very near to God: The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon Have talked with Him, and with the angels walked.

Here are no sounds of discord—no profane Or senseless gossip of unworthy things— Only the songs of chisels and of pens, Of busy brushes, and ecstatic strains Of souls surcharged with music most divine. Here is no idle sorrow, no poor grief For any day or object left behind— For time is counted precious, and herein Is such complete abandonment of Self That tears turn into rainbows, and enhance The beauty of the land where all is fair. Awed and afraid, I cross the border-land. Oh, who am I, that I dare enter here Where the great artists of the world have trod— The genius-crowned aristocrats of Earth? Only the singer of a little song; Yet loving Art with such a mighty love I hold it greater to have won a place Just on the fair land’s edge, to make my grave, Than in the outer world of greed and gain To sit upon a royal throne and reign.

CONTENTS

PAGE WORTH WHILE 1 THE HOUSE OF LIFE 3 A SONG OF LIFE 6 PRAYER 8 IN THE LONG RUN 10 AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE 12 TWO SUNSETS 14 UNREST 18 ARTIST’S LIFE 20 NOTHING BUT STONES 22 INEVITABLE 24 THE OCEAN OF SONG 26 “IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN” 29 MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER 30 I DREAM 32 THE SONNET 34 THE PAST 35 A DREAM 36 USELESSNESS 37 WILL 38 WINTER RAIN 39 LIFE 40 BURDENED 41 LET THEM GO 42 FIVE KISSES 44 RETROSPECTION 48 HELENA 50 NOTHING REMAINS 52 COMRADES 54 WHAT GAIN? 56 TO THE WEST 58 THE LAND OF CONTENT 60 WARNING 62 AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER 63 AND THEY ARE DUMB 71 NIGHT 73 ALL FOR ME 75 INTO SPACE 77 THROUGH DIM EYES 79 THE PUNISHED 81 HALF FLEDGED 82 THE YEAR 84 THE UNATTAINED 85 IN THE CROWD 87 LIFE AND I 89 GUERDON 91 SNOWED UNDER 92 “LEUDEMANNS-ON-THE-RIVER” 94 LITTLE BLUE HOOD 97 NO SPRING 99 MIDSUMMER 101 A REMINISCENCE 103 A GIRL’S FAITH 105 TWO 107 SLIPPING AWAY 109 IS IT DONE? 111 A LEAF 113 ÆSTHETIC 115 POEMS OF THE WEEK 117 GHOSTS 120 FLEEING AWAY 122 ALL MAD 124 HIDDEN GEMS 126 BY-AND-BYE 127 OVER THE MAY HILL 129 FOES 131 FRIENDSHIP 133 TWO SAT DOWN 135 BOUND AND FREE 137 AQUILEIA 139 WISHES FOR A LITTLE GIRL 142 ROMNEY 144 MY HOME 146 TO MARRY OR NOT TO MARRY? 148 AN AFTERNOON 150 RIVER AND SEA 152 WHAT HAPPENS? 153 POSSESSION 154

WORTH WHILE

It is easy enough to be pleasant When life flows by like a song, But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile that is worth the praises of earth Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent When nothing tempts you to stray, When without or within no voice of sin Is luring your soul away; But it’s only a negative virtue Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honour on earth Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife, The world’s highway is cumbered to-day— They make up the sum of life; But the virtue that conquers passion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile— It is these that are worth the homage on earth, For we find them but once in a while.

THE HOUSE OF LIFE

All wondering, and eager-eyed, within her portico I made my plea to Hostess Life, one morning long ago.

“Pray show me this great house of thine, nor close a single door; But let me wander where I will, and climb from floor to floor!

For many rooms, and curious things, and treasures great and small Within your spacious mansion lie, and I would see them all.”

Then Hostess Life turned silently, her searching gaze on me, And with no word, she reached her hand, and offered up the key.

It opened first the door of Hope, and long I lingered there, Until I spied the room of Dreams, just higher by a stair.

And then a door whereon the one word “Happiness” was writ; But when I tried the little key I could not make it fit.

It turned the lock of Pleasure’s room, where first all seemed so bright— But after I had stayed awhile it somehow lost its light.

And wandering down a lonely hall, I came upon a room Marked “Duty,” and I entered it—to lose myself in gloom.

Part 2

Along the shadowy halls I groped my weary way about, And found that from dull Duty’s room, a door of Toil led out.

It led out to another door, whereon a crimson stain Made sullenly against the dark these words: “The Room of Pain.”

But oh the light, the light, the light, that spilled down from above And upward wound, the stairs of Faith, right to the Tower of Love!

And when I came forth from that place, I tried the little key— And lo! the door of Happiness swung open, wide and free.

A SONG OF LIFE

In the rapture of life and of living, I lift up my heart and rejoice, And I thank the great Giver for giving The soul of my gladness a voice. In the glow of the glorious weather, In the sweet-scented, sensuous air, My burdens seem light as a feather— They are nothing to bear.

In the strength and the glory of power, In the pride and the pleasure of wealth (For who dares dispute me my dower Of talents and youth-time and health?), I can laugh at the world and its sages— I am greater than seers who are sad, For he is most wise in all ages Who knows how to be glad.

I lift up my eyes to Apollo, The god of the beautiful days, And my spirit soars off like a swallow, And is lost in the light of its rays. Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you Come out of the shadows of strife— Come out in the sun while I teach you The secret of life.

Come out of the world—come above it— Up over its crosses and graves, Though the green earth is fair and I love it, We must love it as masters, not slaves. Come up where the dust never rises— But only the perfume of flowers— And your life shall be glad with surprises Of beautiful hours. Come up where the rare golden wine is Apollo distills in my sight, And your life shall be happy as mine is, And as full of delight.

PRAYER

I do not undertake to say That literal answers come from Heaven, But I know this—that when I pray A comfort, a support is given That helps me rise o’er earthly things As larks soar up on airy wings.

In vain the wise philosopher Points out to me my fabric’s flaws, In vain the scientists aver That “all things are controlled by laws.” My life has taught me day by day That it availeth much to pray.

I do not stop to reason out The why and how. I do not care, Since I know this, that when I doubt, Life seems a blackness of despair, The world a tomb; and when I trust, Sweet blossoms spring up in the dust.

Since I know in the darkest hour, If I lift up my soul in prayer, Some sympathetic, loving Power Sends hope and comfort to me there. Since balm is sent to ease my pain, What need to argue or explain?

Prayer has a sweet, refining grace, It educates the soul and heart. It lends a lustre to the face, And by its elevating art It gives the mind an inner sight That brings it near the Infinite.

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