“And yet I would not be a child again. For surely as the night succeeds the day, So surely will their mirth turn into tears. And I would not return to happy hours, If I must live again these weary years. I would walk on, and leave it all behind: will walk on; and when my feet grow sore, The… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share
This dream of our youth will fade out as the splendor Fades from the skies when the sun sinks to sleep. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
How fleeting the sorrows of youth, how slight the foundations on which the young build towers of despair. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Talk health. The dreary, never-changing tale Of mortal maladies is worn and stale. You cannot charm, or interest, or please By harping in that… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling To my false rival, Life? I do but bring Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, I have bestowed sweet balm for… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share
With every rising of the sun Think of your life as just begun. The past has shrived and buried deep All yesterdays— there let them sleep, Nor seek to summon back one ghost Of that innumerable host. Concern yourself with but today; Woo it and teach it to obey Your wish and will. Since time began Today has been the… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share
“Why, even Death stands still and waits an hour for such a will.” — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Better to wait and yearn, and still to wait, And die at last with unappeased desire, Than live to be the jest of such… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes, and men grow better as the world grows old. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Back on its golden hinges The gate of Memory swings, And my heart goes into the garden And walks with the olden things. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
I hold it true that thoughts are things Endowed with bodies, breath, and wings, And that we send them forth to fill The world… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
All perfect things are saddening in effect. The autumn wood robed in its scarlet clothes, The matchless tinting on the royal rose Whose velvet… — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
Don't anticipate the happiness of tomorrow. Discover it today. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox Copy Share Image
