I think that the bitterest sorrow or pain
Of love unrequited, or cold death?s woe,
Is sweet, compared to that hour when we know
That some grand passion is on the wane.
When we see that the glory, and glow, and grace
Which lent a splendour to night and day,
Are surely fading, and showing grey
And dull groundwork of the commonplace.
When fond expressions on dull ears fall,
When the hands clasp calmly without one thrill,
When we cannot muster by force of will
The old emotions that came at call.
When the dream has vanished we fain would keep,
When the heart, like a watch, runs out of gear,
And all the savour goes out of the year,
Oh, then is the time ? if we could ? to weep!
But no tears soften this dull, pale woe;
We must sit and face it with dry, sad eyes.
If we seek to hold it, the swifter joy flies ?
We can only be passive, and let it go.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Mon 03.05.2007 at 12:51
?Twas just a slight flirtation,
And where?s the harm, I pray,
In that amusing pastime
So much in vogue to-day?
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Sun 03.04.2007 at 19:43
The band was playing a waltz-quadrille,
I felt as light as a wind-blown feather,
As we floated away, at the caller?s will,
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Tue 02.27.2007 at 00:04
We will be what we could be. Do not say,
"It might have been, had not this, or that, or this."
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Wed 01.24.2007 at 01:55
Good-bye ? Yes, I am going,
Sudden? Well, you are right.
But a startling truth came home to me
With sudden force last night.