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    Poems of Experience
    Poems of Experience
    Poems of Experience
    Ebook77 pages55 minutes

    Poems of Experience

    By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013

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      Book preview

      Poems of Experience - Ella Wheeler Wilcox

      Poems of Experience, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems of Experience, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

      (#7 in our series by Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

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      **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

      **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

      *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****

      Title: Poems of Experience

      Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

      Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5170]

      [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]

      [This file was first posted on May 27, 2002]

      [Most recently updated: May 27, 2002]

      Edition: 10

      Language: English

      Transcribed from the 1917 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk

      POEMS OF EXPERIENCE

      Contents

         The Empty Bowl

         Keep Going

         A Prayer

         The London ‘Bobby’

         Read at the Benefit of Clara Morris

         Two Ghosts

         Woman

         Battle Hymn of the Women

         Memories

         See?

         The Purpose

         The White Man

         A Moorish Maid

         Lincoln

         I know not

         Interlude

         Resurrection

         The Voices of the City

         If Christ came Questioning

         England, Awake!

         Be not attached

         An Episode

         The Voice of the Voiceless

         Time's Defeat

         The Hymn of the Republic

         The Radiant Christ

         At Bay

         The Birth of Jealousy

         Summer's Farewell

         The Goal

         Christ Crucified

         The Trip to Mars

         Fiction and Fact

         Progress

         How the White Rose Came

         I look to Science

         Appreciation

         The Awakening

         Most blest is he

         Nirvana

         Life

         Two men

         Only be still

         Pardoned Out

         The Tides

         Progression

         Acquaintance

         Attainment

         The tower-room

         Father

         The new Hawaiian girl

      THE EMPTY BOWL

      I held the golden vessel of my soul

      And prayed that God would fill it from on high.

      Day after day the importuning cry

      Grew stronger - grew, a heaven-accusing dole

      Because no sacred waters laved my bowl.

      ‘So full the fountain, Lord, wouldst Thou deny

      The little needed for a soul’s supply?

      I ask but this small portion of Thy whole.’

      Then from the vast invisible Somewhere,

      A voice, as one love-authorised by Him,

      Spake, and the tumult of my heart was stilled.

      ‘Who wants the waters must the bowl prepare;

      Pour out the self, that chokes it to the brim,

      But emptied vessels, from the source are filled.’

      KEEP GOING

      Is the goal distant, and troubled the road,

         And the way long?

         And heavy your load?

      Then gird up your courage, and say ‘I am strong,’

         And keep going.

      Is the work weary, and endless the grind

         And petty the pay?

         Then brace up your mind

      And say ‘Something better is coming my way,’

         And keep doing.

      Is the drink bitter life pours in your cup -

         Is the taste gall?

         Then smile and look up

      And say ‘God is with me whatever befall,’

         And keep trusting.

      Is the heart heavy with hope long deferred,

         And with prayers that seem vain?

         Keep saying the word -

      And that which you strive for you yet shall attain.

         Keep praying.

      A PRAYER

      Just as I shape the purport of my thought,

      Lord of the Universe, shape Thou my lot.

      Let each ill thought that in my heart may be,

      Mould circumstance and bring ill luck to me.

      Until I weed the garden of my mind

      From all that is unworthy and unkind,

      Am I not master of my mind, dear Lord?

      Then as I think, so must be my reward.

      Who sows in weakness, cannot reap in strength,

      That which we plant, we gather in at length.

      Great God of Justice, be Thou just to me,

      And as my thoughts, so let my future be.

      THE LONDON ‘BOBBY’

      A TRIBUTE TO THE POLICEMEN OF ENGLAND’S CAPITAL

      Here in my cosy corner,

         Before a blazing log,

      I’m thinking of cold London

         Wrapped in its killing fog;

      And, like a shining beacon

         Above the picture grim,

      I see the London ‘Bobby,’

         And sing my song for him.

      I see his stalwart figure,

         I see his kindly face,

      I hear his helpful answer

         At any hour or place.

      For, though you seek some

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