Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

No Place

When days grow long, and brain and hands grow weary,
   And hot the city street,
Forth to the haunts, by cooling winds made cheery
   We fly with willing feet.

We leave our cares and labours all behind us,
   The city’s noise and din,
And, hid securely where they cannot find us,
   We drink the sunshine in.

But when the days grow long with bitter sorrow,
   And hearts grow sick with woe,
Where are the haunts that we may seek to-morrow?
   Where can we hide or go?

Holds earth no nook, where hearts with sorrow breaking,
   May find a summer’s rest?
A season’s respite from the weary aching
   That gnaws within the breast?

O God! if we could fly and leave behind us
   Our crosses and our grief,
Could hide a season where they could not find us,
   What infinite relief.

1. At the Boro Boedoer
2. Sonnets of Sorrow. 18. The wise ones tell me that my heart's wild clamour
3. Applause
4. The Beggar Cat
5. Bless the Babies

Print

1859 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version