At Fontainebleau

At Fontainebleau, I saw a little bed
Fashioned of polished wood, with gold ornate,
Ambition, hope, and sorrow, ay, and hate
Once battled there, above a childish head,
And there in vain, grief wept, and memory plead
    It was so small! but Ah, dear God, how great
    The part it played in one sad woman's fate.
How wide the gloom, that narrow object shed.

The symbol of an over-reaching aim,
    The emblem of a devastated joy,
    It spoke of glory, and a blasted home:
Of fleeting honours, and disordered fame,
    And the lone passing of a fragile boy.

* * *

It was the cradle of the King of Rome.

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

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We Two

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A Marine Etching

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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Two Rooms

One room is full of luxury, and dim
    With that soft moonlit radiance of light
That she best loves, who sits and dreams of him
    Her heart has crowned as knight.

And one is bare, and comfortless, and dim
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The Coquette.

        Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
    That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,
        And every thought that found her, left a dart
    That hurt her so, she could not even weep.

        Her heart that once had been a cup well filled
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In France I Saw A Hill

In France I saw a hill - a gentle slope
Rising above old tombs to greet the gleam
From soft spring skies.    Beyond these skies dwells hope,
But those green graves bespeak a broken dream.

There was a row of narrow beds, new-made;
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A Woman's Hand

All day long there has haunted me
    A spectre out of my lost youth-land.
Because I happened last night to see
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Like part of a statue broken away,
    And carefully kept in a velvet case,
On the crimson rim of her box it lay;
    The folds of the curtain hid her face.

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The ringless beauty of fingers fine,
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To feel their tender touch on my hair,
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The House Of Life

All wondering, and eager-eyed, within her portico
I made my plea to Hostess Life, one morning long ago.

"Pray show me this great house of thine, nor close a single door;
But let me wander where I will, and climb from floor to floor!

For many rooms, and curious things, and treasures great and small
Within your spacious mansion lie, and I would see them all."

Then Hostess Life turned silently, her searching gaze on me,
And with no word, she reached her hand, and offered up the key.

It opened first the door of Hope, and long I lingered there,
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