If fallacies come knocking at my door,
I’d rather feed, and shelter full a score,
Than hide behind the black portcullis, doubt,
And run the risk of barring one Truth out.And if pretension for a time deceive,
And prove me one too ready to believe,
Far less my shame, than if by stubborn act,
I brand as lie, some great colossal Fact.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Credulity,” st. 1-2, Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels (1909)
(Source)
Quotations by:
Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
Not in some cloister or cave,
Not in some kingdom above,
Here, on this side of the grave,
Here, should we labor and love.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Here and Now.” st. 4, Custer and Other Poems (1896)
(Source)
Closing lines.
And however dark the skies may appear,
And however souls may blunder,
I tell you it all will work out clear,
For good lies over and under.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Insight,” An Erring Woman’s Love (1892)
(Source)
The choicest garb, the sweetest grace,
Are oft to strangers shown;
The careless mien, the frowning face,
Are given to our own.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Life’s Scars,” st. 3 (1896)
(Source)
Originally published in Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, Vol. 42, #4 (1896-10)
And e’en in this great throe of pain called Life
I find a rapture linked with each despair,
Well worth the price of anguish. I detect
More good than evil in humanity.
Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes,
And men grow better as the world grows old.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Optimism,” ll. 9-14, Poems of Pleasure (1888)
(Source)
Laugh and the world laughs with you,
Weep and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Solitiude,” ll. 1-4, Poems of Passion (1883)
(Source)
Possibly the most famous of Wilcox' works, these are the first four lines (the only ones anyone remembers) of three eight-line stanzas. First published in the New York Sun (1883-02-25); Wilcox titled it "The Way of the World," but the Sun renamed it "Solitude," and Wilcox used that title when she included it in her book. She was paid $5 by the newspaper.
AHASUERAS: I am content.
ESTHER: Content is not the pathway to great deeds.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“The Drama of Mizpah: Honeymoon Scene,” Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels (1909)
(Source)
Hell is wherever Love is not, and Heaven
Is Love’s location. No dogmatic creed,
No austere faith based on ignoble fear
Can lead thee into realms of joy and peace.
Unless the humblest creatures on the earth
Are bettered by thy loving sympathy
Think not to find a Paradise beyond.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“The Way,” ll. 5-11 (1913), Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels (1913)
(Source)
One ship drives east and another drives west,
With the self-same winds that blow,
‘Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
That tell them way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the winds of fate,
As we journey along through life,
‘Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“The Winds of Fate” (1913), Poems of Optimism (1915)
(Source)
Sometimes called "'Tis the Set of the Sail."
There is a longer variant of the poem, sometimes called "One Ship Sails East," that includes two stanzas in front, and has slightly different words in the analogous stanzas. I have not found a primary source for this version:But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.
But to every man there openeth,
A high way and a low,
And every mind decideth,
The way his soul shall go.
One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
'Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.
Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
'Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
So many gods, so many creeds;
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“The World’s Need,” Custer and Other Poems (1896)
(Source)
All love that has not friendship for its base
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Though brave its walls as any in the land,
And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace;
Though skilful and accomplished artists trace
Most beautiful designs on every hand,
And gleaming statues in dim niches stand,
And fountains play in some flow’r-hidden place:Yet, when from the frowning east a sudden gust
Of adverse fate is blown, or sad rains fall,
Day in, day out, against its yielding wall,
Lo! the fair structure crumbles to the dust.
Love, to endure life’s sorrow and earth’s woe,
Needs friendship’s solid mason-work below.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Upon the Sand,” Poems of Passion (1883)
(Source)
No; the two kinds of people on earth I mean
Are the people who lift and the people who lean.
Wherever you go, you will find the earth’s masses
Are always divided in just these two classes.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“Which Are You?” st. 6-7, Poems of Power (1902)
(Source)
Sometimes titled "Lifting and Leaning".
You never can tell when you do an act
Just what the result will be;
But with every deed you are sowing a seed,
Though the harvest you may not see.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
“You Never Can Tell,” ll. 9-12, Custer And Other Poems (1896)
(Source)
Oh, you who read some song that I have sung,
What know you of the soul from whence it sprung?
Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud
His secret thought unto the listening crowd?
Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore:
You have its shape, its color and no more.
It tells not one of those vast mysteries
That lie beneath the surface of the seas.
Our songs are shells, cast out by-waves of thought;
Here, take them at your pleasure; but think not
You’ve seen beneath the surface of the waves,
Where lie our shipwrecks and our coral caves.Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) American author and poet.
Poems of Passion, Epigraph (1883)
(Source)
It is impossible to pursue a successful literary career and follow the advice of all one’s “best friends.” I have received severe censure from my orthodox friends for writing liberal verses. My liberal friends condemn my devout and religious poems as “aiding superstition.” My early temperance verses were pronounced “fanatical trash” by others.
With all due thanks and appreciation for the kind motives which interest so many dear friends in my career, I yet feel compelled to follow the light which my own intellect and judgment cast upon my way, rather than any one of the many conflicting rays which other minds would lend me.