A Warning

There was a flame, oh! such a tiny flame -
    One fleeting hour had spanned its birth and death,
    But for a silly child with playful breath
Who fanned it into fury.    It became
A mighty conflagration.    Ah, the cost!
House, home, and thoughtless child alike were lost.

Lady beware.    Fan not the harmless glow
    Of admiration into ardent love,
    Lean not with red curled smiling lips above
The flickering spark of sinless flame, and blow,
Lest in the sudden waking of desire
Thou, like the child, shalt perish in the fire.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox was an American author and poet, born on November 5, 1850, and died on October 30, 1919. She was known for her works expressing optimistic views and moral lessons. Her most famous book was 'Poems of Passion'. Her poem 'Solitude' contains the famous lines, 'Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone'. Over her career, Wilcox became popularly known as a 'people's poet'.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Depths

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Prayer

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Fate And I

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Love's Mirage

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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Ad Finem.

        On the white throat of the' useless passion
    That scorched my soul with its burning breath
        I clutched my fingers in murderous fashion,
    And gathered them close in a grip of death;
        For why should I fan, or feed with fuel,
    A love that showed me but blank despair?
        So my hold was firm, and my grasp was cruel -
    I meant to strangle it then and there!

        I thought it was dead. But with no warning,
    It rose from its grave last night, and came
        And stood by my bed till the early morning,
    And over and over it spoke your name.
        Its throat was red where my hands had held it;
    It burned my brow with its scorching breath;
        And I said, the moment my eyes beheld it,
    "A love like this can kn...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Warned

They stood at the garden gate.
    By the lifting of a lid
She might have read her fate
    In a little thing he did.

He plucked a beautiful flower;
    Tore it away from its place
On the side of the blooming bower;
    And held it against his face.

Drank in its beauty and bloom,
    In the midst of his idle talk;
Then cast it down to the gloom
    And dust of the garden walk.

Ay, trod it under his foot,
    As it lay in his pathway there;
Then spurned it away with his boot,
    Because it bad ceased to be fair.

Ah! the maiden might have read
    The doom of her young life then;
But she looked in his eyes instead,
    And thought him the king of men.

She looked in his eyes and blushed,
    She hid in his s...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

He That Looketh

Yea, she and I have broken God's command,
    And in His sight are branded with our shame.
    And yet I do not even know her name,
Nor ever in my life have touched her hand
Or brushed her garments.    But I chanced to stand
    Beside her in the throng!    A sweet, swift flame
    Shot from her flesh to mine -and hers the blame
Of willing looks that fed it; aye, that fanned
The glow within me to a hungry fire.
    There was an invitation in her eyes.
    Had she met mine with coldness or surprise,
I had not plunged on headlong in the mire
Of amorous thought.    The flame leaped high and higher;
    Her breath and mine pulsated into sighs,
    And soft glance melted into glance kiss-wise,
And in God's sight both yielded to desire.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Burned Out

Blow out the light: there is no oil to feed it:
    That dim blue light unworthy of the name.
Better to sit with folded hands, I say,
And wait for night to pass, and bring the day,
    Than to depend upon that flickering flame.

Take back your vow: there is no love to bind it:
    Take back this little shining, golden thing.
Better to walk on bravely all alone,
Than strive to hold up, or retain our own,
    By soulless pledge, or fetter of a ring.

When first the lamp was lit, too high you turned it;
    The oil was wasted in a blinding blaze.
Your passion was too ardent in the start -
Set by the lamp: farewell.    God gird the heart
    Through darkened hours, and lone and loveless ways.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Two Sunsets.

In the fair morning of his life,
    When his pure heart lay in his breast,
    Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife

That fills young hearts with mad desire,
    He saw a sunset. Red and gold
    The burning billows surged and rolled,
And upward tossed their caps of fire.

He looked. And as he looked, the sight
    Sent from his soul through breast and brain
    Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.
His heart seemed bursting with delight.

So near the Unknown seemed, so close
    He might have grasped it with his hand.
    He felt his inmost soul expand,
As sunlight will expand a rose.

One day he heard a singing strain -
    A human voice, in bird-like trills.
    He paused, and little raptur...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

What Shall We Do?

        Here now forevermore our lives must part.
    My path leads there, and yours another way.
        What shall we do with this fond love, dear heart?
    It grows a heavier burden day by day.

        Hide it? In all earth's caverns, void and vast,
    There is not room enough to hide it, dear;
        Not even the mighty storehouse of the past
    Could cover it from our own eyes, I fear.

        Drown it? Why, were the contents of each ocean
    Merged into one great sea, too shallow then
        Would be its waters to sink this emotion
    So deep it could not rise to life again.

        Burn it? In all the furnace flames below,
    It would not in a thousand years expire.
        Nay! it would thrive, exult, expand, and grow,
    For from...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox