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A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Age: 68 †
Born: 1850
Born: November 5
Died: 1919
Died: October 30
Author
Poet
Writer
Janesville
Wisconsin
Passed
Considered
Lost
Without
Misused
Pens
Poem

More quotes by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Who climbs the mountain does not always climb.The winding road slants downward many a timeYet each descent is higher than the last.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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No fate could rob us of our own-- No circumstance can make it less What time removes was but a loan, For what was ours we still possess.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The spark divine dwells in thee: let it grow.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, We learn on error's troubled route The truths we could not prize without The sorrow of our sad mistakes.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Use all your hidden forces. Do not miss The purpose of this life, and do not wait For circumstance to mould or change your fate.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I was as pure as the morning When I first looked on your face I knew I never could reach you In your high, exalted place.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Rejoice, and men will seek you Grieve, and they turn and go, They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many Be sad, and you lose them all,-- There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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You are your own devil, you are your own God, You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod, And no one can save you from error or sin, Until you shall hark to the Spirit within.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Our lives are songs God write the words And we set them to music at pleasure And the song grows glad, or sweet or sad, As we choose to fashion the measure.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven--the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Keep out of the past. It is haunted.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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How will it be when one of us alone Goes on that strange last journey of the soul? That certain search for an uncertain goal, That voyage on which no comradeship is known?
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I hold it true that thoughts are things Endowed with bodies, breath, and wings, And that we send them forth to fill The world with good results--or ill.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Distrust that man who tells you to distrust. He takes the measure of his own small soul, and thinks the world no larger.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Give, and thou shalt receive. Give thoughts of cheer,Of courage and success, to friend and stranger.And from a thousand sources, far and near,Strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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All the past is not worth one today.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox