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Read Ebook: Poems of Power by Wilcox Ella Wheeler
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Ebook has 491 lines and 20799 words, and 10 pages
I AM
I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go; But the fact stands clear that I am here In this world of pleasure and woe. And out of the mist and murk Another truth shines plain - It is my power each day and hour To add to its joy or its pain.
I know that the earth exists, It is none of my business why; I cannot find out what it's all about, I would but waste time to try. My life is a brief, brief thing, I am here for a little space, And while I stay I would like, if I may, To brighten and better the place.
The trouble, I think, with us all Is the lack of a high conceit. If each man thought he was sent to this spot To make it a bit more sweet, How soon we could gladden the world, How easily right all wrong, If nobody shirked, and each one worked To help his fellows along!
Cease wondering why you came - Stop looking for faults and flaws; Rise up to-day in your pride and say, "I am part of the First Great Cause! However full the world, There is room for an earnest man. It had need of me, or I would not be - I am here to strengthen the plan."
WISHING
Do you wish the world were better? Let me tell you what to do: Set a watch upon your actions, Keep them always straight and true; Rid your mind of selfish motives; Let your thoughts be clean and high. You can make a little Eden Of the sphere you occupy.
Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by day Just to scatter seeds of kindness As you pass along the way; For the pleasures of the many May be ofttimes traced to one, As the hand that plants an acorn Shelters armies from the sun.
WE TWO
We two make home of any place we go; We two find joy in any kind of weather; Or if the earth is clothed in bloom or snow, If summer days invite, or bleak winds blow, What matters it if we two are together? We two, we two, we make our world, our weather.
We two make banquets of the plainest fare; In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure; We hide with wreaths the furrowed brow of care, And win to smiles the set lips of despair. For us life always moves with lilting measure; We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure.
We two find youth renewed with every dawn; Each day holds something of an unknown glory. We waste no thought on grief or pleasure gone; Tricked out like hope, time leads us on and on, And thrums upon his harp new song or story. We two, we two, we find the paths of glory.
We two make heaven here on this little earth; We do not need to wait for realms eternal. We know the use of tears, know sorrow's worth, And pain for us is always love's rebirth. Our paths lead closely by the paths supernal; We two, we two, we live in love eternal.
THE POET'S THEME
What is the explanation of the strange silence of American poets concerning American triumphs on sea and land? Literary Digest.
Why should the poet of these pregnant times Be asked to sing of war's unholy crimes?
To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives On horrid holocausts of human lives?
Man was a fighting beast when earth was young, And war the only theme when Homer sung.
'Twixt might and might the equal contest lay, Not so the battles of our modern day.
Too often now the conquering hero struts A Gulliver among the Liliputs.
Success no longer rests on skill or fate, But on the movements of a syndicate.
Of old men fought and deemed it right and just. To-day the warrior fights because he must,
And in his secret soul feels shame because He desecrates the higher manhood's laws
Oh! there are worthier themes for poet's pen In this great hour, than bloody deeds of men
Or triumphs of one hero :
The rights of many--not the worth of one; The coming issues--not the battle done;
The awful opulence, and awful need; The rise of brotherhood--the fall of greed,
The soul of man replete with God's own force, The call "to heights," and not the cry "to horse," -
Are there not better themes in this great age For pen of poet, or for voice of sage
Than those old tales of killing? Song is dumb Only that greater song in time may come.
When comes the bard, he whom the world waits for, He will not sing of War.
SONG OF THE SPIRIT
All the aim of life is just Getting back to God. Spirit casting off its dust, Getting back to God. Every grief we have to bear Disappointment, cross, despair Each is but another stair Climbing back to God.
Step by step and mile by mile - Getting back to God; Nothing else is worth the while - Getting back to God. Light and shadow fill each day Joys and sorrows pass away, Smile at all, and smiling, say, Getting back to God.
Do not wear a mournful face Getting back to God; Scatter sunshine on the place Going back to God; Take what pleasure you can find, But where'er your paths may wind. Keep the purpose well in mind, - Getting back to God.
WOMANHOOD
She must be honest, both in thought and deed, Of generous impulse, and above all greed; Not seeking praise, or place, or power, or pelf, But life's best blessings for her higher self, Which means the best for all. She must have faith, To make good friends of Trouble, Pain, and Death, And understand their message. She should be As redolent with tender sympathy As is a rose with fragrance. Cheerfulness Should be her mantle, even though her dress May be of Sorrow's weaving. On her face A loyal nature leaves its seal of grace, And chastity is in her atmosphere. Not that chill chastity which seems austere ; But the white flame that feeds upon the soul And lights the pathway to a peaceful goal. A sense of humour, and a touch of mirth, To brighten up the shadowy spots of earth; And pride that passes evil--choosing good. All these unite in perfect womanhood.
MORNING PRAYER
Let me to-day do something that shall take A little sadness from the world's vast store, And may I be so favoured as to make Of joy's too scanty sum a little more Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend; Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need, Or sin by silence when I should defend. However meagre be my worldly wealth, Let me give something that shall aid my. kind - A word of courage, or a thought of health, Dropped as I pass for troubled hearts to find. Let me to-night look back across the span 'Twixt dawn and dark, and to my conscience say - Because of some good act to beast or man - "The world is better that I lived to-day."
THE VOICES OF THE PEOPLE
Oh! I hear the people calling through the day time and the night time, They are calling, they are crying for the coming of the right time. It behooves you, men and women, it behooves you to be heeding, For there lurks a note of menace underneath their plaintive pleading.
Let the land usurpers listen, let the greedy-hearted ponder, On the meaning of the murmur, rising here and swelling yonder, Swelling louder, waxing stronger, like a storm-fed stream that courses Through the valleys, down abysses, growing, gaining with new forces.
Day by day the river widens, that great river of opinion, And its torrent beats and plunges at the base of greed's dominion. Though you dam it by oppression and fling golden bridges o'er it, Yet the day and hour advances when in fright you'll flee before it.
Yes, I hear the people calling, through the night time and the day time, Wretched toilers in life's autumn, weary young ones in life's May time - They are crying, they are calling for their share of work and pleasure; You are heaping high your coffers while you give them scanty measure, - You have stolen God's wide acres, just to glut your swollen purses - Oh! restore them to His children ere their pleading turns to curses.
THE WORLD GROWS BETTER
Oh! the earth is full of sinning And of trouble and of woe, But the devil makes an inning Every time we say it's so. And the way to set him scowling, And to put him back a pace, Is to stop this stupid growling, And to look things in the face.
If you glance at history's pages, In all lands and eras known, You will find the buried ages Far more wicked than our own. As you scan each word and letter. You will realise it more, That the world to-day is better Than it ever was before.
There is much that needs amending In the present time, no doubt; There is right that needs amending, There is wrong needs crushing out. And we hear the groans and curses Of the poor who starve and die, While the men with swollen purses In the place of hearts go by.
Forth from little motes in Chaos, We have come to what we are; And no evil force can stay us - We shall mount from star to star, We shall break each bond and fetter That has bound us heretofore; And the earth is surely better Than it ever was before.
A MAN'S IDEAL
A lovely little keeper of the home, Absorbed in menu books, yet erudite When I need counsel; quick at repartee And slow to anger. Modest as a flower, Yet scintillant and radiant as a star. Unmercenary in her mould of mind, While opulent and dainty in her tastes. A nature generous and free, albeit The incarnation of economy. She must be chaste as proud Diana was, Yet warm as Venus. To all others cold As some white glacier glittering in the sun; To me as ardent as the sensuous rose That yields its sweetness to the burrowing bee All ignorant of evil in the world, And innocent as any cloistered nun, Yet wise as Phryne in the arts of love When I come thirsting to her nectared lips. Good as the best, and tempting as the worst, A saint, a siren, and a paradox.
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