Life's Opera

Like an opera-house is the world, I ween,
Where the passionate lover of music is seen
    In the balcony near the roof:
While the very best seat in the first stage-box
Is filled by the person who laughs and talks
    Through the harmony's warp and woof.

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

The Pessimist

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Over The May Hill

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

A Ballade Of The Unborn Dead

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

A Little Song

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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Life And I

Life and I are lovers, straying
    Arm in arm along:
Often like two children Maying,
    Full of mirth and song,

Life plucks all the blooming hours
    Growing by the way;
Binds them on my brow like flowers,
    Calls me Queen of May.

Then again, in rainy weather,
    We sit vis-a-vis,
Planning work we'll do together
    In the years to be.

Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
    And I frown or pout;
But we make it up with kisses
    Ere the day is out.

Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
    Try his trust and faith,
Saying I shall one day leave him
    For his rival, Death.

Then he always grows more zealous,
    Tender, and more true;
Loves the more for being jealous,
    As all lovers do.
<...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life's Key

The hand that fashioned me, tuned my ear
    To chord with the major key,
In the darkest moments of life I hear
Strains of courage, and hope, and cheer
    From choirs that I cannot see.
And the music of life seems so inspired
That it will not let me grow sad or tired.

Yet through and under the major strain,
    I hear with the passing of years,
The mournful minor measure of pain,
Of souls that struggle and toil in vain
    For a goal that never nears.
And the sorrowful cadence of good gone wrong,
Breaks more and more into earth's glad song.

And oft in the dark of the night I wake
    And think of sorrowing lives,
And I long to comfort the hearts that ache,
To sweeten the cup that is bitter to take,
    And to strengthen each soul that st...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life And I.

Life and I are lovers, straying
    Arm in arm along:
Often like two children Maying,
    Full of mirth and song.

Life plucks all the blooming hours
    Growing by the way;
Binds them on my brow like flowers;
    Calls me Queen of May.

Then again, in rainy weather,
    We sit vis-a-vis,
Planning work we'll do together
    In the years to be.

Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
    And I frown or pout;
But we make it up with kisses
    Ere the day is out.

Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
    Try his trust and faith,
Saying I shall one day leave him
    For his rival Death.

Then he always grows more zealous,
    Tender, and more true;
Loves the more for being jealous,
    As all lovers do.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Artist's Life

Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,
    Mad with melody, rhythm - rife
From the very first to the final note.
    Give me his "Artist's Life!"

It stirs my blood to my finger-ends,
    Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,
And all that is sweetest and saddest blends
    Together within my breast.

It brings back that night in the dim arcade,
    In love's sweet morning and life's best prime,
When the great brass orchestra played and played,
    And set our thoughts to rhyme.

It brings back that Winter of mad delights,
    Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,
And those languid moon-washed Summer nights
    When we heard the band in the street.

It brings back rapture and glee and glow,
    It brings back passion and pain a...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Artist's Life.

Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,
    Mad with melody, rhythm - rife
From the very first to the final note,
    Give me his "Artist's Life!"

It stirs my blood to my finger ends,
    Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,
And all that is sweetest and saddest blends
    Together within my breast.

It brings back that night in the dim arcade,
    In love's sweet morning and life's best prime.
When the great brass orchestra played and played.
    And set our thoughts to rhyme.

It brings back that Winter of mad delights,
    Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,
And those languid moon-washed Summer nights
    When we heard the band in the street.

It brings back rapture and glee and glow,
    It brings back passion and pain a...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Song Of Life.

In the rapture of life and of living,
    I lift up my heart and rejoice,
And I thank the great Giver for giving
    The soul of my gladness a voice.
In the glow of the glorious weather,
    In the sweet-scented sensuous air,
My burdens seem light as a feather -
    They are nothing to bear.

In the strength and the glory of power,
    In the pride and the pleasure of wealth,
(For who dares dispute me my dower
    Of talents and youth-time and health?)
I can laugh at the world and its sages -
    I am greater than seers who are sad,
For he is most wise in all ages
    Who knows how to be glad.

I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
    The god of the beautiful days,
And my spirit soars off like a swallow
    And is lost in the light of its rays...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox