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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


The Past


Fling my past behind me, like a robe
Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.
I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
And dwell up on its beauty, and its dyes
Of Oriental splendour, or complain
That I must needs discard it? I can weave
Upon the shuttles of the future years
A fabric far more durable. Subdued,
It may be, in the blending of its hues,
Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam
Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,
While over all a fadeless lustre lies,
And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,
My new robe shall be richer than the old.



Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
  1. The Bed
  2. Behold the Earth
  3. The Last Dance
  4. The Plow of God
  5. Why the Spring is Late


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Percy Shelley The Past ("Wilt thou forget the happy hours")
  • Ralph Emerson The Past ("The debt is paid")
  • Henry Timrod The Past ("To-dayТs most trivial act may hold the seed")

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