The Pessimist

The pessimistic locust, last to leaf,
Though all the world is glad, still talks of grief.

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

The Speech Of Silence.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Life Is Too Short.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

Helena.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

The Jealous Gods

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Simple Poetry

English

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The Optimist

The fields were bleak and sodden. Not a wing
Or note enlivened the depressing wood,
A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood
Beside the roadway. Winds came muttering
Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting
Of icebergs in their breath. Stalled cattle mooed
Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth's green food.
No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.

The sky was blank and ashen, like the face
Of some poor wretch who drains life's cup too fast.
Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling
About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,
Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,
The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Optimist

The fields were bleak and sodden.
    Not a wing
Or note enlivened the depressing wood;
A soiled and sullen, stubborn snowdrift stood
Beside the roadway.    Winds came muttering
Of storms to be, and brought the chilly sting
    Of icebergs in their breath.    Stalled cattle mooed
    Forth plaintive pleadings for the earth's green food.
No gleam, no hint of hope in anything.

The sky was blank and ashen, like the face
    Of some poor wretch who drains life's cup too fast
Yet, swaying to and fro, as if to fling
About chilled Nature its lithe arms of grace,
    Smiling with promise in the wintry blast,
The optimistic Willow spoke of spring.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Perfection

The leaf that ripens only in the sun
Is dull and shrivelled ere its race is run.
The leaf that makes a carnival of death
Must tremble first before the north wind's breath.

The life that neither grief nor burden knows
Is dwarfed in sympathy before its close.
The life that grows majestic with the years
Must taste the bitter tonic found in tears.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Saddest Hour.

        The saddest hour of anguish and of loss
    Is not that season of supreme despair
    When we can find no least light anywhere
        To gild the dread, black shadow of the Cross;
        Not in that luxury of sorrow when
    We sup on salt of tears, and drink the gall
    Of memories of days beyond recall -
        Of lost delights that cannot come again.

    But when, with eyes that are no longer wet,
        We look out on the great, wide world of men,
        And, smiling, lean toward a bright to-morrow,
    Then backward shrink, with sudden keen regret,
    To find that we are learning to forget:
        Ah! then we face the saddest hour of sorrow.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Solitude

Laugh, and the world laughs with you:
Weep, and you weep alone;
    For the sad old earth
    Must borrow its mirth,
It has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
    The echoes bound
    To a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
    They want full measure
    Of all your pleasure,
But they do not want your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all;
    There are none to decline
    Your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by;
    Succeed and give,
    And it helps you live,
B...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sorrow's Uses

The uses of sorrow I comprehend
Better and better at each year's end.

Deeper and deeper I seem to see
Why and wherefore it has to be.

Only after the dark, wet days
Do we fully rejoice in the sun's bright rays.

Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast
Than the sated gourmand's finest repast.

The faintest cheer sounds never amiss
To the actor who once has heard a hiss.

To one who the sadness of freedom knows,
Light seem the fetters love may impose.

And he who has dwelt with his heart alone,
Hears all the music in friendship's tone.

So better and better I comprehend,
How sorrow ever would be our friend.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox