Thoughts

Thoughts do not need the wings of words
    To fly to any goal.
Like subtle lightnings, not like birds,
    They speed from soul to soul.

Hide in your heart a bitter thought -
    Still it has power to blight;
Think Love -although you speak it not
    It gives the world more light.

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

English

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Thought-Magnets

With each strong thought, with every earnest longing
    For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,
Invisible vast forces are set thronging
    Between thee and that goal

'Tis only when some hidden weakness alters
    And changes thy desire, or makes it less,
That this mysterious army ever falters
    Or stops short of success.

Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure,
    Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;
And its attainment hangs but on the measure
    Of what thy soul can feel.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thought-Magnets

With each strong thought, with every earnest longing
    For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,
Invisible vast forces are set thronging
    Between thee and that goal.

'Tis only when some hidden weakness alters
    And changes thy desire, or makes it less,
That this mysterious army ever falters
    Or stops short of success.

Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure
    Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;
And its attainment hangs but on the measure
    Of what thy soul can feel.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Words

Words are great forces in the realm of life:
    Be careful of their use.    Who talks of hate,
Of poverty, of sickness, but sets rife
    These very elements to mar his fate.

When love, health, happiness, and plenty hear
    Their names repeated over day by day,
They wing their way like answering fairies near,
    Then nestle down within our homes to stay.

Who talks of evil conjures into shape
    The formless thing and gives it life and scope.
This is the law:    then let no word escape
    That does not breathe of everlasting hope.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

You Never Can Tell

You never can tell when you send a word,
    Like an arrow shot from a bow
By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,
    Just where it may chance to go!
It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,
    Tipped with its poison or balm;
To a stranger's heart in life's great mart,
    It may carry its pain or its calm.

You never can tell when you do an act
    Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
    Though the harvest you may not see.
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped
    In God's productive soil.
You may not know, but the tree shall grow,
    With shelter for those who toil.

You never can tell what your thoughts will do,
    In bringing you hate or love;
For thoughts are things, and their airy wings<...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

You Never Can Tell

You never can tell when you send a word,
    Like an arrow shot from a bow
By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,
    Just where it may chance to go.
It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend.
    Tipped with its poison or balm,
To a stranger's heart in life's great mart,
    It may carry its pain or its calm.

You never can tell when you do an act
    Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
    Though the harvest you may not see.
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped
    In God's productive soil
You may not know, but the tree shall grow,
    With shelter for those who toil.

You never can tell what your thoughts will do,
    In bringing you hate or love;
For thoughts are things, and their airy wings

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thoughts.

I am glad when men of genius
    Array a common thought,
In imperishable beauty
    That it cannot be forgot.

The heart thoughts all bright and burnished
    By high poetic art,
As sweet as the wood-bird's warble
    Touching the very heart.

Have not I, poor workday mortal,
    Some thoughts of living light,
In the spirit's inner chambers,
    Moving with spirit might?

And they come in the fair spring time
    Of heart and life and year,
When sweet Nature's wild rejoicings,
    Draws votaries very near

To the heart of all that's lovely
    On earth and in the sky;
Making audible the music
    Of the inner melody.

Underlying all the sunshine,
    Whispering through every breeze,
As it crests the ruffle...

Nora Pembroke