Lais When Young

Lais when young, and all her charms in flower,
    Lais, whose beauty was the fateful light
    That led great ships to anchor in the night
And bring their priceless cargoes to her bower,
Lais yet found her cup of sweet turned sour.
    Great Plato's pupil, from his lofty height,
    Zenocrates, unmoved, had seen the white
Sweet wonder of her, and defied her power.

She snared the world in nets of subtle wiles:
    The proud, the famed, all clamoured at her gate;
    Dictators plead, inside her portico;
Wisdom sought madness, in her favouring smiles;
    Now was she made the laughing-stock of fate:
    One loosed her clinging arms, and bade her go.

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

Europe

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Will

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Warned

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

In The Long Run.

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.

Lais When Old

Lais, when old and all her beauty gone,
Lais, the erstwhile courted pleasure queen,
Walked homeless through Corinth.
    One mocked her mien -
One tossed her coins; she took them and passed on.
Down by the harbour sloped a terraced lawn,
    Where fountains played; she paused to view the scene.
    A marble palace stood in bowers of green
'Twas here of old she revelled till the dawn.

Through yonder portico her lovers came -
    Hero and statesman, athlete, merchant, sage;
    They flung the whole world's treasures at her feet
To buy her favour and exalt her shame.

* * *

She spat upon her dole of coins in rage
    And faded like a phantom down the street.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

At The Hop

'Tis time to dress.    Dost hear the music surging
    Like sobbing waves that roll up from the sea?
Yes, yes, I hear -I yield -no need of urging;
    I know your wishes, -send Lisette to me.

I hate the ballroom; hate its gilded pleasure;
    I hate the crowd within it, well you know;
But what of that?    I am your lawful treasure -
    And when you would display me I must go.

You bought me with a mother's pain and trouble.
    I've been a great expense to you alway.
And now, if you can sell me, and get double
    The sum I cost -why, what have I to say?

You've done your duty: kept me in the fashion,
    And shown me off at every stylish place.
'Twas not your fault I had a heart of passion;
    'Twas not your fault I ever saw his face.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Waft Of Perfume

A waft of perfume from a bit of lace
    Moved lightly by a passing woman's hand;
And on the common street, a sensuous grace
    Shone suddenly from some lost time and land.

Tall structures changed to dome and parapet;
    The stern-faced Church an oracle became;
In sheltered alcoves marble busts were set;
    And on the wall frail Lais wrote her name.

Phryne before her judges stood at bay,
    Fearing the rigour of Athenian laws;
Till Hyperides tore her cloak away,
    And bade her splendid beauty plead its cause.

Great Alexander walking in the dusk,
    Dreamed of the hour when Greek with Greek should meet;
From Thais' window attar breathed, and musk:
    His footsteps went no farther down the street.

Faint and more faint the pungent ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Meditations - His

I was so proud of you last night, dear girl,
While man with man was striving for your smile.
You never lost your head, nor once dropped down
From your high place
As queen in that gay whirl.

(It takes more poise to wear a little crown
With modesty and grace
Than to adorn the lordlier thrones of earth.)

You seem so free from artifice and wile:
And in your eyes I read
Encouragement to my unspoken thought.
My heart is eloquent with words to plead
Its cause of passion; but my questioning mind,
Knowing how love is blind,
Dwells on the pros and cons, and God knows what.

My heart cries with each beat,
'She is so beautiful, so pure, so sweet,
So more than dear.'
And then I hear
The voice of Reason, asking:    'Would she meet
Life's...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Helena

Last night I saw Helena.    She whose praise
    Of late all men have sounded.    She for whom
    Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb
Rather than live without her all his days.

Wise men go mad who look upon her long,
    She is so ripe with dangers.    Yet meanwhile
    I find no fascination in her smile,
Although I make her theme of this poor song.

"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair,
    And yet to me each shining silken tress
    Seems robbed of beauty and all lustreless -
Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.

(I know a little maiden so demure
    She will not let her one true lover's hands
    In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands
So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)

"Her great dark eyes that flash like ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Transformation

She waited in a rose-hued room;
    A wanton-hearted creature she,
    But beautiful and bright to see
As some great orchid just in bloom.

Upon wide cushions stretched at ease
    She lolled in garments filmy fine,
    Which but enhanced each rounded line;
A living picture, framed to please.

A bold electric eye of light
    Leered through its ruddy screen of lace
    And feasted on her form and face
As some wine-crimsoned roué might.

From wall and niche, nude nymph beguiled
    Fair goddesses of world-wide fame,
    But Psyche's self was put to shame
By one who from the cushions smiled.

Exotic blossoms from a vase
    Their sweet narcotic breath exhaled;
    The lights, the objects round her paled -
She lost the sense of ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox