If I should die, to-day,
To-morrow, maybe, the world would see
Would waken from sleep, and say,
"Why here was talent! why here was worth!
Why here was a luminous light o' the earth.
A soul as free
As the winds of the sea:
To whom was given
A dower of heaven.
And fame, and name, and glory belongs
To this dead singer of living songs.
Bring hither a wreath, for the bride of death!"
And so they would praise me, and so they would raise me
Mayhap, a column, high over the bed
Where I should be lying, all cold and dead.
But I am a living poet!
Walking abroad in the sunlight of God,
Not lying asleep, where the clay worms creep,
And the cold world will not show it,
E'en when it sees that my song should please;
But sneering says: "Avaunt, with thy lays
Do not sing them, and do not bring them
Into this rustling, bustling life.
We have no time, for a jingling rhyme,
In this scene of hurrying, worrying strife."
And so I say, there is but one way
To win me a name, and bring me fame.
And that is, to die, and be buried low,
When the world would praise me, an hour or so.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Sun 07.15.2007 at 02:37
If any line that I ever penned,
Or any word I have spoken,
Has comforted heart of foe or friend -
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Mon 07.09.2007 at 20:35
HERE AND NOW.
Here, in the heart of the world,
Here, in the noise and the din,
Here, where our spirits were hurled
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Fri 07.06.2007 at 14:25
Ah yes, I love you, and with all my heart;
Just as a weaker woman loves her own,
Better than I love my beloved art,
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Tue 06.05.2007 at 13:49
Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,
mad with melody, rhythm--rife
From the very first to the final note,
written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, published on Fri 05.25.2007 at 16:11
Because of the fullness of what I had,
All that I have seems poor and vain.
If I had not been happy, I were not sad--