As We Look Back (Rondeau)

As we look back at our lost Used-to-Be,
'The light that never was on land or sea'
    Touches the distant mountain peaks with gold,
    And through the glass of memory we behold
Such blossoms as grow not on any lea.

The double leaf upon the poplar tree
Turns up its silver side to you and me,
And glow-worm lanterns light the lonely wold
    As we look back.

No sounds we hear but echoes of young glee;
No winds we feel but west winds blowing free,
    From those fair isles that seem a thousandfold
    More beautiful than in the days of old;
And all the clouds that hang above them flee,
        As we look back.

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 Word

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Occupation

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Praise Day

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Lullaby

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Through Dim Eyes

Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder?
I see not the grace that I used to see
In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or
In the boughs of the willow tree.
The brook runs slower - its song seems lower
And not the song that it sang of old;
And the tree I admired looks weary and tired
Of the changeless story of heat and cold.

When the sun goes up, and the stars go under,
In that supreme hour of the breaking day,
Is it my eyes, or the dawn, I wonder,
That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray
I see not the splendour, the tints so tender,
The rose-hued glory I used to see;
And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow
That another morning has dawned for me.

When the royal smile of that welcome comer
Beams on the meadow and burns in the s...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An Old Bouquet

I opened a long closed drawer to-day,
And among the souvenirs stored away
Were the faded leaves of an old bouquet.

Those faded leaves were as white as snow,
With a background of green, to make them show,
When you gave them to me long years ago.

They carried me back in a flash of light
To a perfumed, perfect summer night,
And a rider who came on a steed of white.

I can see it all -how you rode down
Like a knight of old, from the dusty town,
With a passionate glow in your eyes of brown.

Again I stand by the garden gate,
While the golden sun slips low, and wait
And watch your coming, my love, my fate.

Young and handsome and debonair
You leap to my side in the garden there,
And I take your flowers, and call them fair.

...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Old Age

The young see heaven - but to the old who wait
    The final call, the hills of youth arise
    More beautiful than shores of Paradise.
Beside a glowing and voracious grate
    A dozing couple dream of yesterday;
The islands of a vanished past appear,
Bringing forgotten names and faces near;
    While lost in mist, the present fades away.
The fragrant winds of tender memories blow
    Across the gardens of the "Used-to-be!"
    They smile into each other's eyes, and see
The bride and bridegroom of the long ago.
    And tremulous lips, pressed close to faded cheek
    Love's silent tale of deathless passion speak.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Incomplete

The summer is just in its grandest prime,
    The earth is green and the skies are blue;
But where is the lilt of the olden time,
When life was a melody set to rhyme,
    And dreams were so real they all seemed true?

There is sun on the meadow, and blooms on the bushes,
    And never a bird but is mad with glee;
But the pulse that bounds, and the blood that rushes,
And the hope that soars, and the joy that gushes,
    Are lost for ever to you and me.

There are dawns of amber and amethyst;
    There are purple mountains, and pale pink seas
That flush to crimson where skies have kist;
But out of life there is something missed -
    Something better than all of these.

We miss the faces we used to know,
    The smiling lips and the eyes of truth....

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

What The Rain Saw

Winds of the summer time what are you saying,
    What are ye seeking, and what do you miss?
Locks like the thistledown floating and straying,
    Cheeks like the budding rose, tinted to kiss.

See ye yon mist rising up from the river?
    That is the spirit of yesterday's rain.
Go to it, fly to it, call to it, cry to it,
    What did ye see when ye fell on the plain?

Rosewood, and velvet, and pansies, and roses,
    Blossoms from loving hands tenderly cast.
Lids like the leaves of a lily that closes
    After its brief little day-life is past.

Beautiful hands on a beautiful bosom,
    Folded so quietly, folded in rest.
Mouth like the bud of a white-petalled blossom,
    Creased where the lips of an angel had pressed.

Lower, and lower, a...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Songs Of A Country Home

I

Who has not felt his heart leap up, and glow
What time the Tulips first begin to blow,
Has one sweet joy still left for him to know.

It is like early love's imagining,
That fragile pleasure which the Tulips bring,
When suddenly we see them, in the Spring.

Not all the garden's later royal train,
Not great triumphant Roses, when they reign,
Can bring that delicate delight again.

II

One of the sweetest hours is this;
(Of all I think we like it best);
A little restful oasis,
Between the breakfast and the post.
Just south of coffee and of toast,
Just north of daily task and duty;
Just west of dreams, this island gleams,
A fertile spot of peace and beauty.

We wander out across the lawn;
We idle by a bush in b...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox