Ella Wheeler Wilcox Poems

And now, when poets are singing
Their songs of olden days,
And now, when the land is ringing
With sweet Centennial lays,
...

Little by little the year grows old,
The red leaves drop from the maple boughs;
The sun grows dim, and the winds blow cold,
...

Lightly they hold him and lightly they sway him-
Soft as a pillow are somebody's arms.
Down he goes slowly, ever so lowly
...

What a terrible night! Does the Night, I wonder-
The Night, with her black veil down to her feet
Like an ordained nun, know what lies under
...

If we sit down at set of sun,
And count the things that we have done,
And counting, find
One self-denying act, one word
...

Dear Love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew
The white snows are falling;
And all through the woods where I wandered with you
...

There was a time when I was confident
That God's stupendous mystery of birth
Was mine to know. The wonder of it lent
...

One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand
To tired little May.
'Come, go with me to Wonderland,'
She said, 'I know the way.
...

There are ghosts in the room.
As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there
They come out of the gloom,
...

Along a narrow Moorish street
A blue-eyed soldier strode.
(Ah, well-a-day.)
Veiled from her lashes to her feet
...