I Know Not

Death!    I know not what room you are abiding in,
    But I will go my way,
    Rejoicing day by day,
    Nor will I flee or stay
For fear I tread the path you may be hiding in.

Death!    I know not, if my small barque be nearing you;
    But if you are at sea,
    Still there my sails float free;
    'What is to be will be.'
Nor will I mar the happy voyage by fearing you.

Death!    I know not, what hour or spot you wait for me;
    My days untroubled flow,
    Just trusting on, I go,
    For oh, I know, I know,
Death is but Life that holds some glad new fate for me.

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

Wednesday

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Words And Thoughts

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

All Mad

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Woman To Man

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Be Not Dismayed

Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death
Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face.
Poor human nature for a little space
Must suffer anguish, when that last drawn breath
Leaves such long silence; but let not thy faith
    Fail for a moment in God's boundless grace.
    But know, oh know, He has prepared a place
Fairer for our dear dead than worlds beneath,
Yet not beneath; for those entrancing spheres
    Surround our earth as seas a barren isle.
Ours is the region of eternal fears;
    Theirs is the region where God's radiant smile
Shines outward from the centre, and gives hope
Even to those who in the shadows grope.
They are not far from us.    At first though long
    And lone may seem the paths that intervene,
    If ever on the staff of prayer we l...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Beyond.

        It seemeth such a little way to me
    Across to that strange country - the Beyond;
        And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
    The home of those of whom I am so fond,
        They make it seem familiar and most dear,
        As journeying friends bring distant regions near.

        So close it lies that when my sight is clear
    I think I almost see the gleaming strand.
        I know I feel those who have gone from here
    Come near enough sometimes to touch my hand.
        I often think, but for our veiled eyes,
        We should find Heaven right round about us lies.

        I cannot make it seem a day to dread,
    When from this dear earth I shall journey out
        To that still dearer country of the dead,
    And join th...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Ship And The Boat

In the great ship Life we speed along,
    With sails and pennons spread.
And tethered, beside the great ship, glide
    The mystic boats for the dead.

Over the deck of the ship of Life
    Our loved and lost we lower.
And calm and steady, his small boat ready,
    Death silently sits at the oar.

He rows our dead away from our sight -
    Away from our hearing or ken.
We call and cry for a last good-bye,
    But they never come back again.

The ship of Life bounds on and on;
    The river of Time runs fast;
And yet more swift our dear dead drift
    For ever back into the Past.

We do not forget those loved and lost,
    But they fade away like a dream:
As we hurry along on the current strong
    Of Time's great turbulent s...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Always At Sea

Always at sea I think about the dead.
On barques invisible they seem to sail
The self-same course; and from the decks cry 'Hail'!
Then I recall old words that they have said,
And see their faces etched upon the mist -
    Dear faces I have kissed.

Always the dead seem very close at sea.
The coarse vibrations of the earth debar
Our spirit friends from coming where we are.
But through God's ether, unimpeded, free,
They wing their way, the ocean deeps above -
    And find the hearts that love.

Always at sea my dead come very near.
A growing host; some old in spirit lore,
And some who crossed to find the other shore
But yesterday.    All, all, I see and hear
With inner senses, while the voice of faith
    Proclaims - there is no death.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Death's Protest

Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man?
Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling
To my false rival, Life?    I do but bring
Thee rest and calm.    Then wherefore dost thou ban
And curse me?    Since the forming of God's plan
    I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing,
    I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting,
And peace eternal for earth's stormy span.

The wild mad prayers for comfort sent in vain
    To knock at the indifferent heart of Life,
    I, Death, have answered.    Knowest thou not 'tis he,
My cruel rival, who sends all thy pain
    And wears the soul out in unending strife?
    Why dost thou hold to him, then, spurning me?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Certitude

There was a time when I was confident
That God's stupendous mystery of birth
Was mine to know.    The wonder of it lent
New ecstasy and glory to the earth.
I heard no voice that uttered it aloud,
Nor was it written for me on a scroll;
Yet, if alone or in the common crowd,
I felt myself a consecrated soul.
My child leaped in its dark and silent room
And cried, 'I am,' though all unheard by men.
So leaps my spirit in the body's gloom
And cries, 'I live!    I shall be born again.'
Elate with certitude towards death I go,
Nor doubt, nor argue, since I know, I know!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox