„LIKE LITTLE SINGING BIRDS“

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX poems
read by Curtis Colina (New York City)
guitar by poembeat

(01) THE WORLD WITH noiseless steps good goes its way The earth shakes under evil’s tread. We hear the uproar, and ’tis said. The world grows wicked every day. It is not true. With quiet feet, In silence, Virtue sows her seeds ; While Sin goes shouting out his deeds, And echoes listen and repeat. But surely as the old world moves. And circles round the shining sun. So surely does God’s purpose run, And all the human race improves. Despite bold evil’s noise and stir, Truth’s golden harvests ripen fast; The Present far outshines the Past; Men’s thoughts are higher than they were Who runs may read this truth, I say : Sin travels in a rumbling car, While Virtue soars on like a star— The world grows better every day. (POEMS OF PLEASURE)
(02) SING TO ME SING to me ! something of sunlight and bloom, I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom, I am so sick with the world’s noise and strife,— Sing of the beauty and brightness of life— Sing to me, sing to me Sing to me ! something that’s jubilant, glad ! I am so weary, my soul is so sad. All my earth riches are covered with rust, All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust. Sing to me, sing to me ! Sing of the blossoms that open in spring, How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling, Say, though the winter is round about me, There are bright summers and springs yet to be. Sing to me, sing to me ! Sing me a song full of hope and of truth, Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth ! Say, though my sorrow may not forget, 1 have not quite done with happiness yet. Sing to me, sing to me ! Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek ; Turn the light lower—there—no, do not speak, But sing ! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice; Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice. Sing to me, sing to me ! (POEMS OF REFLECTION)
(03) MY SHIP IF all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, Laden with precious gems and gold, Ah, well! the harbour could not hold So many sails as there would be, If all my ships came in from sea. If half my ships came home from sea, And brought their precious freight to me, Ah, well! I should have wealth as great As any king who rules in state, So rich the treasures that would be If half my ships now out at sea. If just one ship I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, Ah, well! the storm clouds then might frown; For if the others all went down, Still rich, and proud, and glad, I’d be If that one ship came back to me. If that one ship went down at sea, And all the others came to me, Weighed down with gems and wealth untold, With glory, honour, riches, gold— The poorest soul on earth I’d be If that one ship came not to me. 0 skies, be calm ! O winds, blow free ! Blow all my ships safe home to me ; But if thou sendest some a-wrack To never more come sailing back, Send any—all that skim the sea, But bring my love-ship home to me. (POEMS OF LOVE)
(04) SHOW ME THE WAY SHOW me the way that leads to the true life. I do not care what tempests may assail me, I shall be given courage for the strife, I know my strength will not desert or fail me ; I know that I shall conquer in the fray : Show me the way Show me the way up to a higher plane, Where body shall be servant to the soul. I do not care what tides of woe, or pain, Across my life their angry waves may roll If I but reach the end I seek some day : Show me the way. Show me the way, and let me bravely climb Above vain grievings for unworthy treasures ; Above all sorrow that finds balm in time— Above small triumphs, or belittling pleasures ; Up to those heights where these things seem child’s play : Show me the way. Show me the way to that calm, perfect peace Which springs from an inward consciousness of right ; To where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease, And self shall radiate with the spirit’s light. Though hard the journey and the strife, I pray Show me the way. (POEMS OF PASSION)
(05) WHEN YOU GO AWAY WHEN you go away, my friend, When you say your last good-bye, Then the summer time will end, And the winter will be nigh. Though the green grass decks the heather, And the birds sing all the day, There will be no summer weather After you have gone away. When I look into your eyes, I shall thrill with deepest pain, Thinking that beneath the skies I may never look again. You will feel a moment’s sorrow, I shall feel a lasting grief; You forgetting on the morrow, I to mourn with no relief. When we say the last sad word, And you are no longer near, And the winds and all the birds Cannot keep the summer here, Life will lose its full completeness— Lose it not for you, but me ; All the beauty and the sweetness Each can hold, I shall not see. (POEMS OF LOVE)
(06) LOVE THE day is drawing near, my dear When you and I must sever ; Yet whether near or far we are, Our hearts will love forever, Our hearts will love forever. O sweet, I will be true, and you Must never fail or falter ; I hold a love like mine divine, And yours—it must not alter, O, swear it will not alter. (POEMS OF LOVE)
(07) THE LITTLE BIRD THE father sits in his lonely room, Outside sings a little bird. But the shadows are laden with death and gloom, And the song is all unheard. The father’s heart is the home of sorrow ; His breast is the seat of grief ! Who will hunt the paper for him on the morrow. Who will bring him sweet relief From wearing thought with innocent chat ? Who will find his slippers and bring his hat ? Still the little bird sings And flutters her wings ; The refrain of her song is, “ God knows best! He giveth His little children rest.” What can she know of these sorrowful things ? The mother sits by the desolate hearth, And weeps o’er a vacant chair. Sorrow has taken the place of mirth— Joy has resigned to despair. Bitter the cup the mother is drinking, So bitter the tear-drops start. Sad are the thoughts the mother is thinking— Oh, they will break her heart. Who will run on errands, and romp and play, And mimic the robins the livelong day ? Still the little bird sings . And flutters her wings ; God reigns in heaven, and He will keep The dear little children that fall asleep.” What can she know of these sorrowful things Grandmother sits by the open door, And her tears fall down like rain. Was there ever a household so sad before, Will it ever be glad again ? Many unwelcome thoughts come flitting Into the granddames mind. Who will take up the stitches she drops in knitting ? Who will her snuff-box find ? Who’ll bring her glasses, and wheel her chair, And tie her kerchief and comb her hair? Still the little bird sings And flutters her wings ; „God above doeth all things well, I sang it the same when my nestlings fell.” Ah ! this knows the bird of these sorrowful things. (POEMS OF REFELCTION)
(08) GHOSTS THERE are ghosts in the room. As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there They come out of the gloom, And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair. There’s the ghost of a Hope That lighted my days with a fanciful glow, In her hand is the rope That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago. But her ghost comes to-night With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes, And it stands in the light, And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs. There’s the ghost of a Joy, A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much, And the hands that destroy Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch. There’s the ghost of a Love, Bom with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest But he towers above All the others-this ghost; yet a ghost at the best, I am weary, and fain Would forget all these dead : but the gibbering host Make my struggle in vain – In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost. (POEMS OF CHEER)
(09) INBORN AS long as men have eyes wherewith to gaze, As long as men have eyes, The sight of beauty to their sense shall be As mighty winds are to a sleeping sea When stormy billows rise. And beauty’s smile shall stir youth’s ardent blood As rays of sunlight burst the swelling bud; As long as men have eyes wherewith to gaze. As long as men have words wherewith to praise, As long as men have words, They shall describe the softly-moulded breast, Where Love and Pleasure make their downy nest, Like little singing birds ; And lovely limbs, and lips of luscious fire, Shall be the theme of many a poet’s lyre, As long as men have words wherewith to praise. As long as men have hearts that long for homes, As long as men have hearts, Hid often like the acorn in the earth, Their inborn love of noble woman’s worth, Beyond all beauty’s arts, Shall stem the sensuous current of desire, And urge the world’s best thought to something higher, As long as men have hearts that long for homes. (POEMS OF PLEASURE)
(10) IF DEAR love, if you and I could sail away With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled, Across the waters of some unknown bay, And find some island far from all the world ; If we could dwell there, evermore alone, While unrecorded years slip by apace, Forgetting and forgotten and unknown By aught save native song-birds of the place ; If Winter never visited that land, And Summer’s lap spilled o’er with fruits and flowers, And tropic trees cast shade on every hand, And twined boughs formed sleep-inviting bowers ; If from the fashions of the world set free, And hid away from all its jealous strife, I lived alone for you, and you for me— Ah ! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life. But since we dwell here in the crowded way, Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold, And all is common-place and work-a-day. As soon as love’s young honeymoon grows old. Since fashion rules and nature yields to art, And life is hurt by daily jar and fret, ‚Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart And go our ways alone, love, and forget. (MISCELLANEOUS POEMS)
(11) COMRADES I AND my Soul are alone to-day, All in the shining weather; We were sick of the world, and we put it away. So we could rejoice together. Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky, Is mixing a rare, sweet wine, In the burnished gold of his cup on high, For me, and this Soul of mine. We find it a safe and a royal drink, And a cure for every pain ; It helps us to love, and helps us to think, And strengthens body and brain. And sitting here, with my Soul alone, Where the yellow sun-rays fall, Of all the friends I have ever known I find it the best of all. We rarely meet when the World is near, For the World hath a pleasing art, And brings me so much that is bright and dear That my Soul it keepeth apart. But when I grow weary of mirth and glee, Of glitter, and plow, and splendour, Like a tried old friend it comes to me With a smile that is sad and tender. And we walk together as two friends may, And laugh, and drink God’s wine. Oh, a royal comrade any day, I find this Soul of mine. (MICELLANEOUS POEMS)
(12) ONE OF US TWO THE day will dawn when one of us shall hearken In vain to hear a voice that has grown dumb. And moms will fade, noons pale, and shadows darken While sad eyes watch for feet that never come. One of us two must sometime face existence Alone with memories that but sharpen pain. And these sweet days shall shine back in the distance, Like dreams of summer dawns, in nights of rain. One of us two, with tortured heart half broken, Shall read long-treasured letters through salt tears, Shall kiss with anguished lips each cherished token That speaks of these love-crowned, delicious years. One of us two shall find all light, all beauty, All joy on earth, a tale for ever done ; Shall know henceforth that life means only duty. Oh, God ! Oh, God ! have pity on that one. (POEMS OF PLEASURE)
(13) FINIS AN idle rhyme of the summer time, Sweet, and solemn, and tender ; Fair with the haze of the moon’s pale rays, Bright with the sunset’s splendour. Summer and beauty over the lands— Careless hours of pleasure ; A meeting of eves and a touching of hands— A change in the floating measure. A deeper hue in the skies of blue, Winds from the tropics blowing ; A softer grace on the fair moon’s face. And the summer going, going. The leaves drift down, the green grows brown, And tears with smiles are blended ; A twilight hour and a treasured flower,— And now the poem is ended. (POEMS OF LIFE)

„Poetical Works“ published by W.P.Nimmo, Hay & Mitchel, LTD.