Ella Wheeler Wilcox

1850-1919

Solitude

						Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
						   Weep, and you weep alone.
						For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
						   But has trouble enough of it's own.
						Sing, and the hills will answer;
						   Sigh, it is lost on the air.
						The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
						   But shrink from voicing care.

						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 nectared wine,
						   But alone you must drink life's gall.

						Feast, and your halls are crowded.
						   Fast, and the world goes by.
						Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
						   But no man can help you die.
						There is room in the halls of pleasure
						   For a long and lordly train,
						But one by one we must all file on
						   Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Friendship After Love

					After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
					   Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
					   In the intensity of its own fires,
					There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
					Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
					   So after Love has led us, till he tires
					   Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
					Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,
					He beckons us to follow, and across
					   Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
					   Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
					Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?
					We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
					And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

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