There's one sad truth in life I've found
    While journeying east and west -
    The only folks we really wound
    Are those we love the best.
    We flatter those we scarcely know,
    We please the fleeting guest,
    And deal full many a thoughtless blow
    To those who love us best.
 
 
 
    Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It does not matter very much to me
Through what strange ways my pathway now may lead;
Since I know that it runs away from thee,
I give it little heed.
 
It does not matter if in calm or strife,
There ebb or flow for me the future's tide.
I had but one great longing in my life,
And that has been denied.
 
It does not matter if I stand or fall,
Or walk with kings, or with the rank and file;
Life's loftiest aims and best ambitions all
Were centred in thy smile.
 
It does not matter what the world may say:
I feel no interest in its blame or praise.
I only know we dwell apart to-day,
And shall through endless days.
 
It does not matter. For my restless heart
Is numb to sorrow, or to pleasure's touch.
Since it must be that we two drift apart,
Why, nothing matters much.
 
The same poet jobs...

Quote from lilfisk on Aug 14^th, 2009, 8:47am:

 
 
Welcome to LNF. Her poems are timeless. Thanks for sharing.

      In the rapture of life and of living,  
I lift up my head 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 tou 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.  
 
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

MIDSUMMER
 
After the May time and after the June time
Rare with blossoms and perfume sweet,
Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
The red midsummer of blazing heat,
When the sun, like an eye that never closes,
Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,
And the winds are still, and the crimson roses
Droop and wither and die in its rays.
 
Unto my heart has come this season,
O, my lady, my worshiped one,
When, over the stars of Pride and Reason,
Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun.
Like a great red ball in my bosom burning
With fires that nothing can quench or tame,
It glows till my heart itself seems turning
Into a liquid lake of flame.
 
The hopes half shy and the sighs all tender,
The dreams and fears of an earlier day,
Under the noontide's royal splendor,
Droop like roses, and wither away.
From the hills of Doubt no winds are blowing,
From the isles of Pain no breeze is sent, -
Only the sun in a white heat glowing
Over an ocean of great content.
 
Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory!
Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon!
For the Autumn must come with its mournful story.
And Love's midsummer will fade too soon.
 
Ella Wheeler Wilcox [1850-1919]