The Masquerade

Look in the eyes of trouble with a smile,
    Extend your hand and do not be afraid.
    'Tis but a friend who comes to masquerade.
And test your faith and courage for awhile.

Fly, and he follows fast with threat and jeer.
    Shrink, and he deals hard blow on stinging blow,
    But bid him welcome as a friend, and lo!
The jest is off - the masque will disappear.

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

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Five Kisses

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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A Masque Of Venice.

    (A Dream.)


    Not a stain,
In the sun-brimmed sapphire cup that is the sky -
Not a ripple on the black translucent lane
Of the palace-walled lagoon.
    Not a cry
As the gondoliers with velvet oar glide by,
Through the golden afternoon.


    From this height
Where the carved, age-yellowed balcony o'erjuts
Yonder liquid, marble pavement, see the light
Shimmer soft beneath the bridge,
    That abuts
On a labyrinth of water-ways and shuts
Half their sky off with its ridge.


    We shall mark
All the pageant from this ivory porch of ours,
Masques and jesters, mimes and minstrels, while we hark
To their music as they fare.
    Scent their flowers
Flung from boat to boat in rainbow radiant showers
Throu...

Emma Lazarus

In The Crowd

How happy they are, in all seeming,
    How gay, or how smilingly proud,
How brightly their faces are beaming,
    These people who make up the crowd!
How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
    How they look at each other and smile,
How they glow, and what bon mots they utter!
    But a strange thought has found me the while!

It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
    These people who now play a part,
All forced by some strange necromancy
    To speak, and to act, from the heart.
What a hush would come over the laughter!
    What a silence would fall on the mirth!
And then what a wail would sweep after,
    As the night-wind sweeps over the earth!

If the secrets held under and hidden
    In the intricate hearts of the crowd
Were su...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

In The Crowd.

How happy they are, in all seeming,
    How gay, or how smilingly proud,
How brightly their faces are beaming,
    These people who make up the crowd.
How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
    How they look at each other and smile,
How they glow, and what bon mots they utter!
    But a strange thought has found me the while!

It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
    These people who now play a part,
All forced by some strange necromancy
    To speak, and to act, from the heart.
What a hush would come over the laughter!
    What a silence would fall on the mirth!
And then what a wail would sweep after,
    As the night-wind sweeps over the earth.

If the secrets held under and hidden
    In the intricate hearts of the crowd,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

My Friend.

        When first I looked upon the face of Pain
    I shrank repelled, as one shrinks from a foe
    Who stands with dagger poised, as for a blow.
        I was in search of Pleasure and of Gain;
        I turned aside to let him pass: in vain;
    He looked straight in my eyes and would not go.
    "Shake hands," he said; "our paths are one, and so
        We must be comrades on the way, 'tis plain."

        I felt the firm clasp of his hand on mine;
    Through all my veins it sent a strengthening glow.
    I straightway linked my arm in his, and lo!
        He led me forth to joys almost divine;
    With God's great truths enriched me in the end:
    And now I hold him as my dearest friend.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Last Masquerade

A wan new garment of young green
Touched, as you turned your soft brown hair
And in me surged the strangest prayer
Ever in lover's heart hath been.

That I who saw your youth's bright page,
A rainbow change from robe to robe,
Might see you on this earthly globe,
Crowned with the silver crown of age.

Your dear hair powdered in strange guise,
Your dear face touched with colours pale:
And gazing through the mask and veil
The mirth of your immortal eyes.

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Vanity Fair

In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile,
    As we talk of the opera after the weather,
As we chat of fashion and fad and style,
    We know we are playing a part together.
You know that the mirth she wears, she borrows;
She knows you laugh but to hide your sorrows;
We know that under the silks and laces,
And back of beautiful, beaming faces,
Lie secret trouble and grim despair,
        In Vanity Fair.

In Vanity Fair, on dress parade,
    Our colours look bright and our swords are gleaming;
But many a uniform's worn and frayed,
    And most of the weapons, despite their seeming,
Are dull and blunted and badly battered,
And close inspection will show how tattered
And stained are the banners that float above us.
Our comrades hate, while they swear to love...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox