Read Ebook: The Englishman and Other Poems by Wilcox Ella Wheeler

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Ebook has 303 lines and 15117 words, and 7 pages

Oh, it is very desolate, on Virtue's path to stand, And see the good folks flocking by, withholding look and hand.

And so with hungry heart and soul, and weary brain and feet, I left that highway whence you came, and sought the sinful street.

O prudent one, O spotless one, when good folks speak of me, Go, tell them of the roads I came; the road ways fair, and three.

A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD

They walked the valley of the dead; Lit by a weird half light; No sound they made, no word they said; And they were pale with fright. Then suddenly from unseen places came Loud laughter, that was like a whip of flame.

They looked, and saw, beyond, above, A land where wronged souls wait; . And each one stood in anguish dumb and wild, As she beheld the phantom of her child.

Yea, saw the soul her wish had hurled Out into night and death; Before it reached the Mother world, Or drew its natal breath. And terrified, each hid her face and fled Beyond the presence of her unborn dead.

And God's Great Angel, who provides Souls for our mortal land, Laughed, with the laughter that derides, At that fast fleeing band Of self-made barren women of the earth.

'O Angel, tell us who were they, That down below us fared; Those shapes with faces strained and grey, And eyes that stared and stared; Something there was about them, gave us fear; Yet are we lonely, now they are not here.'

Thus spake the spectral children; thus The Angel made reply: 'They have no part or share with us; They were but passers-by.' 'But may we pray for them?' the phantoms plead. 'Yea, for they need your prayers,' the Angel said.

They went upon their lonely way; ; Their path was lit with one wan ray From ghostly children's eyes; The little children who were never born; And as they passed, the Angel laughed in scorn.

THE TRUTH TELLER

The Truth Teller lifts the curtain, And shows us the people's plight; And everything seems uncertain, And nothing at all looks right. Yet out of the blackness groping, My heart finds a world in bloom; For it somehow is fashioned for hoping, And it cannot live in the gloom.

He tells us from border to border, That race is warring with race; With riot and mad disorder, The earth is a wretched place; And yet ere the sun is setting I am thinking of peace, not strife; For my heart has a way of forgetting All things save the joy of life.

I heard in my Youth's beginning That earth was a region of woe, And trouble, and sorrow, and sinning: The Truth Teller told me so. I knew it was true, and tragic; And I mourned over much that was wrong; And then, by some curious magic, The heart of me burst into song.

The years have been going, going, A mixture of pleasure and pain; But the Truth Teller's books are showing That evil is on the gain. And I know that I ought to be grieving, And I should be too sad to sing; But somehow I keep on believing That life is a glorious thing.

JUST YOU

All the selfish joys of earth, I am getting through. That which used to lure and lead Now I pass and give no heed; Only one thing seems of worth - Just you.

Not for me the lonely height, And the larger view; Lowlier ways seem fair and wide, While we wander side by side. One thing makes the whole world bright - Just you.

Not for distant goals I run, No great aim pursue; Most of earth's ambitions seem Like the shadow of a dream. All the world to me means one - Just you.

REFLECTION

Twice have I seen God's full reflected grace. Once when the wailing of a child at birth Proclaimed another soul had come to earth, That look shone on, and through the mother's face.

And once when silence, absolute and vast, Followed the final indrawn mortal breath, Sudden upon the countenance of death That supreme glory of God's grace was cast.

SONGS OF LOVE AND THE SEA

When first we met , Like one before a King, I stood in awe; nor felt nor saw The sun, the winds, the earth, the sky Or any other thing. God's Universe, to me, Was just the Sea.

When next we met, the lordly Main Played but a courtier's part; Crowned Queen was I; and earth and sky, And sun and sea were my domain, Since love was in my heart. Before, beyond, above, Was only Love.

Love built me, on a little rock, A little house of pine, At first, the Sea Beat angrily About that house of mine; .

But when it turned to go away Beyond the sandy track, Down o'er its wall The house would call, Until the Sea came back; .

And now the two have grown so fond, , When clouds hang low, And east winds blow, They meet and kiss and kiss: .

No man can understand the Sea, until He knows all passions of the senses; all The great emotions of the heart; and each Exalted aspiration of the soul. Then may he sit beside the sea and say: 'I, too, have flung myself against the rocks, And kissed their flinty brows with no return; And fallen spent upon unfeeling sands. I, too, have gone forth yearning, to far shores, Seeking that something which would bring content; And finding only what I took away; And I have looked up, through the veil of skies, When all the world was still, and understood That I am one with Nature and with God.'

The Dawn was flying from the Night; Swift as the wind she sped; Her hair was like a fleece of light; Her cheeks were warm and red.

All passion pale, the Night pursued; She fled away, away; And in her garments, rainbow hued, She gained the peak of day.

And then, all shaken with alarms, She leaped down from its crest; Into the Sea's uplifted arms, And swooned upon his breast.

ACQUAINTANCE

Not we who daily walk the City's street; Not those who have been cradled in its heart, Best understand its architectural art, Or realise its grandeur. Oft we meet Some stranger who has stayed his passing feet And lingered with us for a single hour, And learned more of cathedral, and of tower, Than we, who deem our knowledge quite complete.

Not always those we hold most loved and dear, Not always those who dwell with us, know best Our greater selves. Because they stand so near They cannot see the lofty mountain crest, The gleaming sun-kissed height, which fair and dear Stands forth--revealed unto the some-time guest.

IN INDIA'S DREAMY LAND

In India's land one listens aghast To the people who scream and bawl; For each caste yells at a lower caste, And the Britisher yells at them all.

RANGOON

Just a changing sea of colour Surging up and flowing down; And pagodas shining golden, night and noon; And a sun-burst-tinted throng Of young priests that move along Under sun-burst-hued umbrellas through the town. That's Rangoon.

THOUGHTS ON LEAVING JAPAN

A changing medley of insistent sounds, Like broken airs, played on a Samisen, Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore. The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry Of patient runners; laughter and strange words Of children, children, children everywhere: The clap of reverent hands, before some shrine; And over all the haunting temple bells, Waking, in silent chambers of the soul, Dim memories of long-forgotten lives.

But oh! the sorrow of the undertone; The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night.

Brave little people, of large aims, you bow Too often, and too low before the Past; You sit too long in worship of the dead. Yet have you risen, open eyed, to greet The great material Present. Now salute The greater Future, blazing its bold trail Through old traditions. Leave your dead to sleep In quiet peace with God. Let your concern Be with the living, and the yet unborn; Bestow on them your thoughts, and waste no time In costly honours to insensate dust. Unlock the doors of usefulness, and lead Your lovely daughters forth to larger fields, Away from jungles of the ancient sin.

For oh! the sorrow of that undertone, The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night.

ON SEEING THE DIABUTSU--AT KAMAKURA, JAPAN

Long have I searched, cathedral shrine, and hall, To find a symbol, from the hand of art, That gave the full expression Of that ecstatic peace which follows all Life's pain and passion. Strange it should befall This outer emblem of the inner heart Was waiting far beyond the great world's mart - Immortal answer, to the mortal call.

Unknown the artist, vaguely known his creed: But the bronze wonder of his work sufficed To lift me to the heights his faith had trod. For one rich moment, opulent indeed, I walked with Krishna, Buddha, and the Christ, And felt the full serenity of God.

THE LITTLE LADY OF THE BULLOCK CART

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