Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ella Wheeler Wilcox was an American author and poet. Her best-known work was Poems of Passion. Her most enduring work was " Solitude", which contains the lines: "Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone". Her autobiography, The Worlds and I, was published in 1918, a year before her death.
Ella Wheeler was born in 1850 on a farm in Johnstown, Wisconsin, east of Janesville, the youngest of four children. The family soon moved north of Madison. She started writing poetry at a very early age, and was well known as a poet in her own state by the time she graduated from high school.
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Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
"It Might Have Been"
We will be what we could be. Do not say, "It might have been, had not this, or that, or this." No fate can keep us from the chosen way; He only might who is.
A Golden Day
The subtle beauty of this day Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell, And care and grief have flown away, And every breeze sings, "all is well."
A Fallen Leaf
A trusting little leaf of green, A bold audacious frost; A rendezvous, a kiss or two, And youth for ever lost.
A March Snow
Let the old snow be covered with the new: The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden. Let it be hidden wholly from our view By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
As You Go Through Life
Don’t look for the flaws as you go through life; And even when you find them, It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind And look for the virtue behind them.
A Lovers' Quarrel
We two were lovers, the Sea and I; We plighted our troth ‘neath a summer sky. And all through the riotous ardent weather
A Maiden To Her Mirror
He said he loved me! Then he called my hair Silk threads wherewith sly Cupid strings his bow, My cheek a rose leaf fallen on new snow; And swore my round, full throat would bring despair
The Wife The house is like a garden, The children are the flowers, The gardener should come methinks
They say the world is round, and yet I often think it square, So many little hurts we get From corners here and there.
It is easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows by like a song, But the man worth while is one who will smile, When everything goes dead wrong.
A Song Of Life
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.
A Grey Mood
As we hurry away to the end, my friend, Of this sad little farce called existence, We are sure that the future will bring one thing, And that is the grave in the distance.
The Winds of Fate
One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. Tis the set of the sails And not the gales
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink ...