Earnestness.

        The hurry of the times affects us so
    In this swift rushing hour, we crowd and press
        And thrust each other backward as we go,
    And do not pause to lay sufficient stress
    Upon that good, strong, true word, Earnestness.
        In our impetuous haste, could we but know
        Its full, deep meaning, its vast import, oh,
    Then might we grasp the secret of success!
        In that receding age when men were great,
    The bone and sinew of their purpose lay
    In this one word. God likes an earnest soul -
        Too earnest to be eager. Soon or late
    It leaves the spent horde breathless by the way,
    And stands serene, triumphant at the goal.

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

Insight

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Shadows

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

How Does Love Speak?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Art And Heart.

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.

In The Long Run.

In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
    The lucky wight may prosper for a day,
But in good time true merit leads the van,
    And vain pretense, unnoticed, goes its way.
There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,
But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,
    In the long run.

In the long run all goodly sorrow pays,
    There is no better thing than righteous pain,
The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,
    Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.
Unmeaning joys enervate in the end.
But sorrow yields a glorious dividend
    In the long run.

In the long run all hidden things are known,
    The eye of truth will penetrate the night,
And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,
    However well 'tis guarded from the li...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

In The Long Run

In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
    The lucky wight may prosper for a day,
But in good time true merit leads the van
    And vain pretence, unnoticed, goes its way.
There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,
But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,
    In the long run.

In the long run all godly sorrow pays,
    There is no better thing than righteous pain,
The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,
    Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.
Unmeaning joys enervate in the end,
But sorrow yields a glorious dividend
    In the long run.

In the long run all hidden things are known,
    The eye of truth will penetrate the night,
And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,
    However well 'tis guarded from the ligh...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

High Noon

Time's finger on the dial of my life
Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day
Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark,
Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.
To those who burn the candle to the stick,
The sputtering socket yields but little light.
Long life is sadder than an early death.
We cannot count on ravelled threads of age
Whereof to weave a fabric.    We must use
The warp and woof the ready present yields
And toil while daylight lasts.    When I bethink
How brief the past, the future, still more brief
Calls on to action, action!    Not for me
Is time for retrospection or for dreams,
Not time for self-laudation or remorse.
Have I done nobly?    Then I must not let
Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.
Have I done wrong?    Well, l...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

High Noon

Time's finger on the dial of my life
Points to high noon! and yet the half-spent day
Leaves less than half remaining, for the dark,
Bleak shadows of the grave engulf the end.

To those who burn the candle to the stick,
The sputtering socket yields but little light.
Long life is sadder than an early death.
We cannot count on raveled threads of age
Whereof to weave a fabric. We must use
The warp and woof the ready present yields
And toil while daylight lasts. When I bethink
How brief the past, the future still more brief,
Calls on to action, action! Not for me
Is time for retrospection or for dreams,
Not time for self-laudation or remorse.
Have I done nobly? Then I must not let
Dead yesterday unborn to-morrow shame.
Have I done wrong? Well, let the bit...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Worth While

It is easy enough to be pleasant
    When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is the one who will smile
    When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
    And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
    Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent
    When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
    Is luring your soul away;
But it's only a negative virtue
    Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honour on earth
    Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
    Who had no strength for the strife,
The world's highway is cumbered to-day -
    They make u...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Be In Earnest

Be in earnest, Christian toilers,
    Life is not the summer, dream
Of the careless, child that gathers
    Daisies in the noontide beam!
It hath conflict, it hath danger,
    It hath sorrow, toil, and strife;
Yet the weak alone will falter
    In the battle-field of life.

There are burdens you may lighten,
    Toiling, struggling ones may cheer,
Tear-dimmed eyes that you may brighten,
    Thorny paths that you may clear; -
Erring ones, despised, neglected,
    You may lead to duty back, -
Beacon-lights to be erected,
    All along life's crowded track.

There are wrongs that must be righted,
    Sacred rights to be sustained,
Truths, though trampled long and slighted,
    'Mid the strife to be maintained; -
Heavy, brooding mists...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)