The Winds of Fate
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 the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the winds of fate, As we voyage along through life, ‘Tis the set of the soul That decides its goal And not the calm or the strife.
--Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Love Is Not All
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, Or nagged by want past resolution's power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, Or trade the memory of this night for food. It well may be. I do not think I would.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay


Song
I was so chill and overworn, and sad, To be a lady was the only joy I had. I walked the street as silent as a mouse, Buying fine clothes, and fittings for the house. But since I saw my love, I wear a simple dress, And happily I move, Forgetting weariness.
--Anne Wickham


To a Friend
I ask but one thing of you, only one, That always you will be my dream of you; That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on, Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night. Alas, how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew Existed, but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half-forgotten sound. The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground, Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a belief in beauty through all wrongs. O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!
--Amy Lowell


In March
Three lovely things today I saw beat back the wind, The March wind's bitter play. A crocus shivering up, Timorous, tremulous, frail, Offering wan Spring its cup. A ship through rack and rout Slipping to port ice-sheeted, Shrieking her triumph out. A newly widowed wife Bearing her proud grief high Through the wrecked house of life. Flower, boand bride, all three, Their beauty dazzles me, Their freedom sets me free.
--Harriet Monroe


Hope
Hope was but a timid friend She sat without my grated den Watching how my fate would tend Even as selfish hearted men
She was cruel in her fears through the bars one dreary day, I looked out to see her there And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard false watch keeping Still in strife she whispered peace; She would sing while I was weeping.. If I listened, She would cease.
False, she was, and unrelenting When my last joys strewed the ground Evan sorrow saw repenting Those sad relics scattered round
Hope-whose whisper would have given Balm to all that frenzied pain- Stretched her wings and soared to heaven; Went- and ne're returned again!
--by Emily Bronte


I Do Not Love Thee
I do not love thee!-no! I do not love thee! and yet when thou art absent I am sad; And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad. I do not love thee!-yet, I know not why, Whate'er thou dost seems still well done, to me: And often in my solitude I sigh That those I do love are not more like thee! I do not love thee!-yet, when thou art gone, I hate the sound (though those who speak be near) Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear. I do not love thee!-yet, thy speaking eyes, With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue, Between me and the midnight heaven arise, Oftener than and eyes I ever knew. I know I do not love thee! yet, alas! Others will scarcely trust my candid heart; And oft I catch them smiling as they pass, Because they see me gazing where thou art.
--Carolyn Elizabeth Sarah Norton


A Womens' Questions
Before I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.   I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret: Is there one link with the past, That holds thy spirit yet: Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?
Look deeper still. If thou canst feel, Within thy inmost soul, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole, Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.
Is there within thy heart a need That mine cannot fulfil? One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still? Speak now--lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay.
Lives there within thy nature hid The demon-spirit change, Shedding a passing glory still On all things new and strange? It may not be thy fault alone, --but shield my heart against thy own.
Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day And answer to my claim, That Fate, and that to-day's mistake-- Not thou--had been to blame? Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt surely warn and save me now.
Nay, answer not,--I dare not hear, The words would come too late; Yet I would spare thee all remorse, So, comfort thee, my Fate,-- Whatever on my heart may fall--remember, I would risk it all.
--Adelaide Anne Procter




  Words of Wisdom | Creation of Ideas | Chest of Treasures
Memories | 'Lili' of the Valley | Malaysia | Save Journey
E-Mail | Sign My Guestbook | View My Guestbook | View My Old Guestbook