What The Rain Saw

Winds of the summer time what are you saying,
    What are ye seeking, and what do you miss?
Locks like the thistledown floating and straying,
    Cheeks like the budding rose, tinted to kiss.

See ye yon mist rising up from the river?
    That is the spirit of yesterday's rain.
Go to it, fly to it, call to it, cry to it,
    What did ye see when ye fell on the plain?

Rosewood, and velvet, and pansies, and roses,
    Blossoms from loving hands tenderly cast.
Lids like the leaves of a lily that closes
    After its brief little day-life is past.

Beautiful hands on a beautiful bosom,
    Folded so quietly, folded in rest.
Mouth like the bud of a white-petalled blossom,
    Creased where the lips of an angel had pressed.

Lower, and lower, and lower, and lower,
    Dust unto dust -but a mound on the plain.
Left alone, lonely, this, and this only,
    Saw we, and see we to-day, said the rain.

Winds of the summer time vain is your seeking,
    Vain is your calling with sobs in your breath.
Lips that are tender, eyes full of splendour,
    Wooed away, sued away, vanished with death.

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

Separation

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Fleeing Away.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Regret And Remorse

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Little White Hearse

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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The Search

The rain falls long, and the rain falls light,
    With a desolate drip -drop, sad to hear.
But never a star shines through the night
    As I sit afar, from the world anear.

Down in the parlour some one sings;
    The children laugh in the nursery hall;
But my heart like a bird has spread its wings,
    And leaves the music, and mirth, and all.

Out in the rain and the eerie night,
    Into the darkness it speeds away.
Ah me! ah me! 'tis a gruesome flight,
    Seeking for you till the dawn of day.

If it only knew which way to go;
    Where you wander, or where you lie.
To valleys of sunshine, or hills of snow,
    Thither at once my heart would fly.

Fly and follow wherever you led,
    Over the desert and over the wave;
Or if ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An Autumn Day

Leaden skies and a lonesome shadow
    Where summer has passed with her gorgeous train;
Snow on the mountain, and frost on the meadow -
    A white face pressed to the window pane;
A cold mist falling, a bleak wind calling,
    And oh! but life seems vain.

Rain is better than golden weather,
    When the heart is dulled with a dumb despair.
Dead leaves lie where they walked together,
    The hammock is gone, and the rustic chair.
Let bleak snows cover the whole world over -
    It will never again seem fair.

Time laughs lightly at youth's sad 'Never,'
    Summer shall come again, smiling once more,
High o'er the cold world the sun shines for ever,
    Hearts that seemed dead are alive at the core.
Oh, but the pain of it -oh, but the gain of it,

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Memory's River

In Nature's bright blossoms not always reposes
    That strange subtle essence more rare than their bloom,
Which lies in the hearts of carnations and roses,
    That unexplained something by men called perfume.
Though modest the flower, yet great is its power
    And pregnant with meaning each pistil and leaf,
If only it hides there, if only abides there,
    The fragrance suggestive of love, joy, and grief.

Not always the air that a master composes
    Can stir human heart-strings with pleasure or pain.
But strange, subtle chords, like the scent of the roses,
    Breathe out of some measures, though simple the strain.
And lo! when you hear them, you love them and fear them,
    You tremble with anguish, you thrill with delight,
For back of them slumber old dreams...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Unrest

In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,
    When the green was showing on tree and hedge,
And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding
    The world from zenith to outermost edge,
My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!
    I sighed for the season of sun and rose,
And I said, "In the Summer and that time only
    Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."

With bee and bird for her maids of honour
    Came Princess Summer in robes of green.
And the King of day smiled down upon her
    And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.
Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,
    Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,
And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges
    Like royal children in sportive play.

My restless soul for a little sea...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Reminders

When in the early dawn I hear the thrushes,
    And like a flood of waters o'er my heart
The memory of another summer rushes,
    How can I rise up, and perform my part?

When in the languid eve I hear the wailing
    Of the uncomforted sad mourning dove,
Whose grief, like mine, seems deep as unavailing,
    What will I do with all this wealth of love?

When the sweet rain falls over hills and meadows,
    And the tall poplar's silver leaves are wet,
And, like my soul, the world seems draped in shadow,
    How shall I hush this passionate regret?

When the wild bee is wooing the red clover,
    And the fair rose smiles on the butterfly,
Missing thy smile and kiss, O love, my lover,
    Who on God's earth so desolate as I?

My tortured sense...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Tired.

        I am tired to-night, and something,
    The wind maybe, or the rain,
        Or the cry of a bird in the copse outside,
    Has brought back the past and its pain.
        And I feel, as I sit here thinking,
    That the hand of a dead old June
        Has reached out hold of my heart's loose strings,
    And is drawing them up in tune.

        I am tired to-night, and I miss you,
    And long for you, love, through tears;
        And it seems but to-day that I saw you go -
    You, who have been gone for years.
        And I seem to be newly lonely -
    I, who am so much alone;
        And the strings of my heart are well in tune,
    But they have not the same old tone.

        I am tired; and that old sorrow
    Sweeps down the bed...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox