More Fortunate

I hold that life more fortunate by far
    That sits with its sweet memories alone
    And cherishes a joy for ever flown
Beyond the reach of accident to mar.
(Some joy that was extinguished like a star)
    Than that which makes the prize so much its own
    That its poor commonplacenesses are shown;
(Which in all things, when viewed too closely, are.)

Better to mourn a blossom snatched away
    Before it reached perfection, than behold
With dry, unhappy eyes, day after day,
The fresh bloom fade, and the fair leaf decay.
    Better to lose the dream, with all its gold,
Than keep it till it changes to dull grey.

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

Solitude.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Inspiration

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Engine.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Met

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.

Possession

That which we had we still possess,
    Though leaves may drop and stars may fall;
No circumstance can make it less,
    Or take it from us, all in all.

That which is lost we did not own;
    We only held it for a day -
A leaf by careless breezes blown;
    No fate could take our own away.

I hold it as a changeless law
    From which no soul can sway or swerve,
We have that in us which will draw
    Whate'er we need or most deserve.

Even as the magnet to the steel
    Our souls are to our best desires;
The Fates have hearts and they can feel -
    They know what each true life requires.

We think we lose when we most gain;
    We call joys ended ere begun;
When stars fade out do skies complain,
    Or glory in the rising s...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life

On a bleak, bald hill with a dull world under,
    The dreary world of the Commonplace,
I have stood when the whole world seemed a blunder
    Of dotard Time, in an aimless race.
With worry about me and want before me -
    Yet deep in my soul was a rapture spring
That made me cry to the grey sky o'er me:
    'Oh, I know this life is a goodly thing!'

I have given sweet years to a thankless duty
    While cold and starving, though clothed and fed,
For a young heart's hunger for joy and beauty
    Is harder to bear than the need of bread.
I have watched the wane of a sodden season,
    Which let hope wither, and made care thrive,
And through it all, without earthly reason,
    I have thrilled with the glory of being alive.

And now I stand by the grea...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Worth Living

I know not what the future may hold,
    Or how to others it seems,
But I know my skies have held more gold
    Than I used to find in my dreams.

Though the whole world sings of hopes death chilled,
    In grateful truth I say,
That my best hopes have been fulfilled,
    And more than fulfilled to-day.

Though oft my arrow I aim at the sun
    To see it fall into the sand,
Yet just as often some work I have done
    Is better than I have planned.

I do not always grasp the pleasure
    For which I reach, maybe;
But quite as frequently over-measure
    Is given by joy to me.

To-morrow may bring a grief behind it
    That will thoroughly change my mood;
But we only can speak of a thing as we find it -
    And I have found lif...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Which

We are both of us sad at heart,
    But I wonder who can say
Which has the harder part,
    Or the bitterer grief to-day.

You grieve for a love that was lost
    Before it had reached its prime;
I sit here and count the cost
    Of a love that has lived its time.

Your blossom was plucked in its May,
    In its dawning beauty and pride;
Mine lived till the August day,
    And reached fruition and died.

You pressed its leaves in a book,
    And you weep sweet tears o'er them.
Dry eyed I sit and look
    On a withered and broken stem.

And now that all is told,
    Which is the sadder, pray,
To give up your dream with its gold,
    Or to see it fade into grey?

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Voluptuary.

Oh, I am sick of love reciprocated,
    Of hopes fulfilled, ambitions gratified.
Life holds no thing to be anticipated,
    And I am sad from being satisfied.

The eager joy felt climbing up the mountain
    Has left me now the highest point is gained.
The crystal spray that fell from Fame's fair fountain
    Was sweeter than the waters were when drained.

The gilded apple which the world calls pleasure,
    And which I purchased with my youth and strength,
Pleased me a moment. But the empty treasure
    Lost all its lustre, and grew dim at length.

And love, all glowing with a golden glory,
    Delighted me a season with its tale.
It pleased the longest, but at last the story
    So oft repeated, to my heart grew stale.

I lived for self, ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Worn Out

I saw a young heart in the grasp of pain;
    With bruised breast, and broken, bleeding wing
Shipwrecked on hopeless love's tempestuous main,
    Lay the poor tortured thing.

It pulsed with all the anguish of despair;
    It ached with all a fond heart's awful power;
Yet I, who stood unhurt above it there,
    Envied its lot that hour.

I, who have wasted all the sacred, deep
    Emotions of my soul in spendthrift fashion,
Until no sorrow now can make me weep -
    No joy stir me with passion.

I, who have scattered here and there the gold
    Of my heart's store, until I spent the whole;
Yet unto each so little gave to hold,
    That I enriched no soul.

I, who have sold the birthright of sweet tears,
    And no more feel a thrill in...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox