Best

In the gruesome night and the wintry weather,
    I watched two dear friends die,
And I buried them both in one grave together.
    Oh! who is so sad as I?
For the old love, and the old year,
    They both have passed away;
And I never can find the old cheer
    Come what will or may.

I heard the bell in the tall church steeple
    Clang out a joyful strain.
And I thought, 'Of all the great world's people,
    I have the bitterest pain.'
For the old year was a good year,
    And the old love was sweet;
And how could my heart hold any cheer
    When both lay dead at my feet.

Life may smile and the skies may brighten,
    Winter will pass with its snows;
Grief will wane and the burden lighten -
    And June will come with the rose.
But it cannot bring the old cheer
    To fill my empty breast;
For the old year was the one year,
    And the old love was best.

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

Reward

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Lady And The Dame

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Spinster

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Compensations

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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December

Upon December's windy portico
The Old Year stood, and looked out where the sun
Went wading down the West, through drifting clouds.
'I, too, shall sink full soon to rest,' he sighed,
'And follow where my children's feet have trod;
Brave January, beauteous May and June,
My lovely daughters, and my valiant sons,
All, all save one, have left me for that bourne
Men call the Past.    It seems but yesterday
I saw fair August, laughing with the Sea,
Snaring the Earth with her seductive wiles,
And making conquest, even of the Sun.
Yet has she gone, and left me here to mourn.'
Then spake December, from an open door:
'Father, the night grows cold; come in and rest.
Sit with me here beside this glowing grate;
I have not left thee; thou art not alone;
My house is thin...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Bleak Weather.

        Dear Love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew
    The white snows are falling;
        And all through the woods where I wandered with you
    The loud winds are calling;
        And the robin that piped to us tune upon tune,
    Neath the oak, you remember,
        O'er hill-top and forest has followed the June
    And left us December.

        He has left like a friend who is true in the sun
    And false in the shadows;
        He has found new delights in the land where he's gone,
    Greener woodlands and meadows.
        Let him go! what care we? let the snow shroud the lea,
    Let it drift on the heather;
        We can sing through it all: I have you, you have me.
    And we'll laugh at the weather.

        The old year may di...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Which

We are both of us sad at heart,
    But I wonder who can say
Which has the harder part,
    Or the bitterer grief to-day.

You grieve for a love that was lost
    Before it had reached its prime;
I sit here and count the cost
    Of a love that has lived its time.

Your blossom was plucked in its May,
    In its dawning beauty and pride;
Mine lived till the August day,
    And reached fruition and died.

You pressed its leaves in a book,
    And you weep sweet tears o'er them.
Dry eyed I sit and look
    On a withered and broken stem.

And now that all is told,
    Which is the sadder, pray,
To give up your dream with its gold,
    Or to see it fade into grey?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The New Love

I thought my heart was death chilled,
    I thought its fires were cold;
But the new love, the new love,
    It warmeth like the old.

I thought its rooms were shadowed
    With the gloom of endless night;
But the new love, the new love,
    It fills them full of light.

I thought the chambers empty,
    And proclaimed it unto men;
But the new love, the new love,
    It peoples them again.

I thought its halls were silent,
    And hushed the whole day long;
But the new love, the new love,
    It fills them full of song.

Then here is to the new love,
    Let who will sing the old;
The new love, the new love,
    'Tis more than fame or gold.

For it gives us joy for sorrow,
    And it gives us warmth for cold;

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An Autumn Day

Leaden skies and a lonesome shadow
    Where summer has passed with her gorgeous train;
Snow on the mountain, and frost on the meadow -
    A white face pressed to the window pane;
A cold mist falling, a bleak wind calling,
    And oh! but life seems vain.

Rain is better than golden weather,
    When the heart is dulled with a dumb despair.
Dead leaves lie where they walked together,
    The hammock is gone, and the rustic chair.
Let bleak snows cover the whole world over -
    It will never again seem fair.

Time laughs lightly at youth's sad 'Never,'
    Summer shall come again, smiling once more,
High o'er the cold world the sun shines for ever,
    Hearts that seemed dead are alive at the core.
Oh, but the pain of it -oh, but the gain of it,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

From The Grave.

        When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,
    I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,
        Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,
    A voice I fancied forever stilled.

        All through winter and spring and summer,
        Silence hung over that grave like a pall,
        But, borne on the breath of the last sad comer,
    I listen again to the old-time call.

        It is only a love of a by-gone season,
    A senseless folly that mocked at me
        A reckless passion that lacked all reason,
    So I killed it, and hid it where none could see.

        I smothered it first to stop its crying,
    Then stabbed it through with a good sharp blade,
        And cold and pallid I saw it lying,
    And deep - ah' ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox