To sin by silence, when we should protest,Makes cowards out of men. The human raceHas climbed on protest. Had no voice been raisedAgainst injustice, ignorance, and lust,The inquisition yet would serve the law,And guillotines decide our least disputes. The few who dare, must speak and speak againTo right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,No vested power in this great day and landCan gag or throttle. Press and voice may cryLoud disapproval of existing ills;May criticise oppression and condemnThe lawlessness of wealth-protecting lawsThat let the children and childbearers toilTo purchase ease for idle millionaires. Therefore I do protest against the boastOf independence in this mighty land. Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link. Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave. Until the manacled slim wrists of babesAre loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,Until the mother bears no burden, saveThe precious one beneath her heart, untilGods soil is rescued from the clutch of greedAnd given back to labor, let no manCall this the land of freedom.
It is easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows by like a song. But the man worth while is the one who can smile, when everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is troubled, And it always comes with the years. And the smiles that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.
With care, and skill, and cunning art, She parried Time's malicious dart, And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart and aged her in a day!
From reincarnated sources and through prenatal causes I was born with unquenchable hope and unfaltering faith in God and guardian spirits. I often wept myself to sleep after a day of disappointments and worries but woke in the morning singing aloud with the joy of life.I always expected wonderful things to happen to me. In some of my hardest days when everything went wrong with everybody at home and all my manuscripts came back for six weeks at a time without one acceptance, I recall looking out of my little north window upon the lonely road bordered with lonelier Lombardy poplars, and thinking,
Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams, And shoot the shadows through and through with light? What matters one lost vision of the night? Let the dream go! ...
He who leads Must then be strong and hopeful as the dawn That rises unafraid and full of joy Above the blackness of the darkest night. He must be kind to every living thing; Kind as the Krishna, Buddha and the Christ, And full of love for all created life. Oh, not in war shall his great prowess lie, Nor shall he find his pleasure in the chase. Too great for slaughter, friend of man and beast, Touching the borders of the Unseen Realms And bringing down to earth their mystic fires To light our troubled pathways, wise and kind And human to the core, so shall he be, The coming leader of the coming time.
A mighty monarch in the days of old Made offer of high honour, wealth and gold, To one who should produce in form concise A motto for his guidance, terse yet wise--- A precept, soothing in his hours forlorn, Yet one that in his prosperous days would warn. Many the maxims sent the king, men say. The one he chose: This too shall pass away. Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth! What riches it contains for age or youth. No stately epic, measured and sublime, So comforts, or so counsels, for all time As these few words. Go write them on your heart And make them of your daily life a part. Has some misfortune fallen to your lot? This too will pass away--absorb the thought. And wait; your waiting will not be in vain, Time gilds with gold the iron links of pain. The dark to-day leads into light to-morrow; There is no endless joy, no endless sorrow. Are you upon earth's heights? No cloud in view? Go read your motto once again: This too Shall pass away; fame, glory, place and power, They are but little baubles of the hour, Flung by the ruthless years down in the dust. Take warning and be worthy of God's trust. Use well your prowess while it lasts; leave bloom, Not blight, to mark your footprints to the tomb. The truest greatness lies in being kind, The truest wisdom in a happy mind. He who desponds, his Maker's judgment mocks; The gloomy Christian is a paradox. Only the sunny soul respects its God. Since life is short we need to make it broad; Since life is brief we need to make it bright. Then keep the old king's motto well in sight, And let its meaning permeate each day. Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.
In the long run all love is paid by love, Though undervalued by the hosts of earth; The great eternal Government above Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth. Give thy love freely; do not count the cost; So beautiful a thing was never lost In the long run.
It has ever been since time began, and ever will be, till time lose breath, that love is a mood --no more --to man, and love to a woman is life or death.
I prayed for riches and achieved success, All that I touched turned into gold. Alas! My cares were greater, and my peace was less When that wish came to pass.
I prayed for glory; and heard my name Sung by sweet children and by hoary men. But ah! the hurts, the hurts that came with fame! I was not happy then.
I prayed for love, and had my soul's desire, Through quivering heart and body and through brain There swept the flame of its devouring fire; And there the scars remain.
I prayed for a contented mind. At length Great light upon my darkened spirit burst, Great peace fell on me, also, and great strength. Oh! had that prayer been first!
One ship sails east and another sails west With the self-same winds that blow. Tis the set of the sail and not the gale Which determines the way they go. As the winds of the sea are the ways of fate As we voyage along through life, Tis the act of the soul that determines the goal, And not the calm or the strife.
Books by and about Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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