I Am The World

I am the song, that rests upon the cloud;
            I am the sun:
I am the dawn, the day, the hiding shroud,
            When dusk is done.

I am the changing colours of the tree;
            The flower uncurled:
I am the melancholy of the sea;
            I am the world.

The other souls that, passing in their place,
            Each in their groove;
Out-stretching hands that chain me and embrace,
            Speak and reprove.

O atom of that law, by which the earth
            Is poised and whirled;
Behold! you hurrying with the crowd assert
            You are the world.

Am I not one with all the things that be
            Warm in the sun?
All that my ears can hear, or eyes can see,
            Till all be done.

Of song and shine, of changing leaf apart,
            Of bud uncurled:
With all the senses pulsing at my heart,
            I am the world.

One day the song that drifts upon the wind,
            I shall not hear;
Nor shall the rosy shoots to eyes grown blind
            Again appear.

Deaf, in the dark, I shall arise and throw
            From off my soul,
The withered world with all its joy and woe,
            That was my goal.

I shall arise, and like a shooting star
            Slip from my place;
So lingering see the old world from afar
            Revolve in space.

And know more things than all the wise may know
            Till all be done;
Till One shall come who, breathing on the stars,
            Blows out the sun.

Dora Sigerson Shorter

Dora Sigerson Shorter was an Irish poet and sculptor born in Dublin in 1866. She was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival, a movement that aimed to promote Irish literature and culture in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She was also a close friend of W.B. Yeats and married the writer and journalist Clement King Shorter. Dora's work often dealt with themes of Irish nationalism and folklore, and she published several volumes of poetry before her untimely death in 1918.

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English

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I wish this world and its green hills were mine,
But it is not; the wandering shepherd star
Is not more distant, gazing from afar
On the unreapèd pastures of the sea,
Than I am from the world, the world from me.
At night the stars on milky way that shine
Seem things one might possess, but this round green
Is for the cows that rest, these and the sheep:
To them the slopes and pastures offer sleep;
My sleep I draw from the far fields of blue,
Whence cold winds come and go among the few
Bright stars we see and many more unseen.

Birds sing on earth all day among the flowers,
Taking no thought of any other thing
But their own hearts, for out of them they sing:
Their songs are kindred to the blossom heads,
Faint as the petals which the blackthorn sheds,
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Fredegond Shove

A Song.

Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?
    Does any one weep on a day like this,
With the sun above, and the green earth under?
    Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?

With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me,
    Birds that sing as they wheel and fly -
With the winds to follow and say they love me -
    Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!

Somebody said, in the street this morning,
    As I opened my window to let in the light,
That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
    But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.

One who claims that he knows about it
    Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
But I and the bees and the birds - we doubt it,
    And think it a world worth living in.

Some one says that hearts are fi...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Night

The night is young yet; an enchanted night
In early summer: calm and darkly bright.

I love the Night, and every little breeze
She brings, to soothe the sleep of dreaming trees.

Hearst thou the Voices? Sough! Susurrus! Hark!
Tis Mother Nature whispering in the dark!

Burden of cities, mad turmoil of men,
That vex the daylight, she forgets them then.

Her breasts are bare; Grief gains from them surcease:
She gives her restless sons the milk of Peace.

To sleep she lulls them, drawn from thoughts of pelf
By telling sweet old stories of herself.

.    .    .    .    .

All secrets deep, yea, all I hear and see
Of things mysterious, Night reveals to me.

I know what every flower, with drowsy head
Down-drooping, dreams of, ...

Victor James Daley

I Am

I know not whence I came,
    I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
    In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and murk
    Another truth shines plain -
It is my power each day and hour
    To add to its joy or its pain.

I know that the earth exists,
    It is none of my business why;
I cannot find out what it's all about,
    I would but waste time to try.
My life is a brief, brief thing,
    I am here for a little space,
And while I stay I would like, if I may,
    To brighten and better the place.

The trouble, I think, with us all
    Is the lack of a high conceit.
If each man thought he was sent to this spot
    To make it a bit more sweet,
How soon we could gladden the world,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I Am

I know not whence I came,
    I know not whither I go;
But the fact stands clear that I am here
    In this world of pleasure and woe.
And out of the mist and murk,
    Another truth shines plain.
It is in my power each day and hour
    To add to its joy or its pain.

I know that the earth exists,
    It is none of my business why.
I cannot find out what it's all about,
    I would but waste time to try.
My life is a brief, brief thing,
    I am here for a little space.
And while I stay I would like, if I may,
    To brighten and better the place.

The trouble, I think, with us all
    Is the lack of a high conceit.
If each man thought he was sent to this spot
    To make it a bit more sweet,
How soon we could gladden the world.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Existence

You are here, and you are wanted,
    Though a waif upon life's stair;
Though the sunlit hours are haunted
    With the shadowy shapes of care.
Still the Great One, the All-Seeing
Called your spirit into being -
Gave you strength for any fate.
Since your life by Him was needed,
All your ways by Him are heeded -
    You can trust and you can wait.

You can wait to know the meaning
    Of the troubles sent your soul;
Of the chasms intervening
    'Twixt your purpose and your goal;
Of the sorrows and the trials,
Of the silence and denials,
    Ofttimes answering to your pleas;
Of the stinted sweets of pleasure,
And of pain's too generous measure -
    You can wait the WHY of these.

Forth from planet unto planet,
    You have go...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox