Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The New Love

I thought my heart was death chilled,
   I thought its fires were cold;
But the new love, the new love,
   It warmeth like the old.

I thought its rooms were shadowed
   With the gloom of endless night;
But the new love, the new love,
   It fills them full of light.

I thought the chambers empty,
   And proclaimed it unto men;
But the new love, the new love,
   It peoples them again.

I thought its halls were silent,
   And hushed the whole day long;
But the new love, the new love,
   It fills them full of song.

Then here is to the new love,
   Let who will sing the old;
The new love, the new love,
   ’Tis more than fame or gold.

For it gives us joy for sorrow,
   And it gives us warmth for cold;
Oh! the new love, the new love,
   ’Tis better than the old.

1. The Birth of the Orchid
2. The Call (All wantonly in hours of joy)
3. Be Not Attached
4. Behold the Earth
5. The Black Charger

Print

1357 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version