Five Little Toes In The Morning
This little toe is hungry-
This little toe is too,
This toe lies abed like a sleepy head,
And this toe cries 'Boo-hoo.'
This toe big and tall is the smartest of all
For he pops into stocking and shoe.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Five Little Toes At Night
This little toe is tired,
This little toe needs rocking,
This little toe is sleepy you know,
But this little toe keeps talking,
This toe big and tall is the mischief of all,
For he made a great hole in his stocking.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Rangoon
ust a changing sea of colour
Surging up and flowing down;
And pagodas shining golden, night and noon;
And a sun-burst-tinted throng
Of young priests that move along
Under sun-burst-hued umbrellas through the town.
That's Rangoon.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Flowers Have Tender Little Souls
The flowers have tender little souls
That love, rejoice, aspire.
Each star that on its orbit rolls
Feels infinite desire.
The diamond longs to scintillate
When hid beneath the sod.
The universe is animate
With consciousness of God.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Fallen Leaf
A trusting little leaf of green,
A bold audacious frost;
A rendezvous, a kiss or two,
And youth for ever lost.
Ah, me!
The bitter, bitter cost.
A flaunting patch of vivid red,
That quivers in the sun;
A windy gust, a grave of dust,
The little race is run.
Ah, me!
Were that the only one.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Picture
I strolled last eve across the lonely down;
One solitary picture struck my eye:
A distant ploughboy stood against the sky—
How far he seemed above the noisy town!
Upon the bosom of a cloud the sod
Laid its bruised cheek as he moved slowly by,
And, watching him, I asked myself if I
In very truth stood half as near to God.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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True Charity
I gave a beggar from my little store
Of well-earned gold. He spent the shining ore
And came again, and yet again, still cold
And hungry, as before.
I gave a thought, and through that thought of mine
He found himself, the man, supreme, divine!
Fed, clothed, and crowned with blessings manifold.
And now he begs no more.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Winds of Fate
One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.
Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through the life:
Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox from World Voices
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Philosophy
At morn the wise man walked abroad,
Proud with the learning of great fools.
He laughed and said, ‘There is no God –
‘Tis force creates, ‘tis reason rules.’
Meek with the wisdom of great faith,
At night he knelt while angels smiled,
And wept and cried with anguished breath,
‘Jehovah, God, save Thou my child.’
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Death Of Labour
Methought a great wind swept across the earth,
And all the toilers perished. Then I saw
Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth,
And careless eyes grow full of fear and awe.
The sounds of pleasure ceased; the laughing song
On folly's lip changed to an angry cures:
A nameless horror seized the idle throng,
And death and ruin filled the universe.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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