Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thought-Magnets

With each strong thought, with every earnest longing
  For aught thou deemest needful to thy soul,
Invisible vast forces are set thronging
  Between thee and that goal.

’Tis only when some hidden weakness alters
  And changes thy desire, or makes it less,
That this mysterious army ever falters
  Or stops short of success.

Thought is a magnet; and the longed-for pleasure
  Or boon, or aim, or object, is the steel;
And its attainment hangs but on the measure
  Of what thy soul can feel.

1. The Birth of the Orchid
2. The Black Charger
3. All the World
4. At Set of Sun
5. The Call (All wantonly in hours of joy)

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