Tag Archive | ella wheeler wilcox

Sounds From The Baseball Field

SOUNDS FROM THE BASEBALL FIELD

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox


Batter in the home place,
That was nobly done;
Try and get the first base—
Run! Run! RUN!
Ah, there, short stop, will you miss?
Hear the people cheer and hiss,
Hear them yell and shout.
Twinkling legs and flying feet—
(Oh, I wonder who will beat!)
Faster, faster, out!
Umpire, umpire, go along;
That was wrong, sir, that was wrong.


Pitcher pitches, four balls,
“Take your base, my man.”
Toward the second now he crawls—
“Steal it if you can.”
Oh, the ball has gone so high,
Can they catch it on the fly?
Ah, there is no doubt,
He will get his third, I vow—
Pshaw! the ball has got there now,
“Two men out!”
Umpire, umpire, that was wrong;
Go along, sir, go along.


One man on the first base,
Not a single run.
Boys are warming to the race—
Now look out for fun.
Pitcher’s arm maybe is tired;
Batter sudden seems inspired,
Grounds the ball to win.
Run there, run there, run your best,
I am screaming with the rest
“Two men in!”
Umpire, umpire, go away;
Dead wrong, dead wrong, sir, I say.


What’s the matter now, pray?
Taking breath, that’s all;
But the restless people say
“Play ball, play ball.”
One ball, two strikes, two balls—”Foul.”
Umpire calls, and people howl:
“What is he about?”
Run, run, run, run, Run, Run, RUN!
Half the inning now is done,
“Three men out!”
Umpire, umpire, go along;
You are always, always wrong.

Regret

REGRET

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

There is a haunting phantom called Regret,
A shadowy creature robed somewhat like woe,
But fairer in the face, whom all men know
By her said mien, and eyes forever wet.
No heart would seek her; but once having met
All take her by the hand, and to and fro
They wander through those paths of long ago–
Those hallowed ways ’twere wiser to forget.

One day she led me to that lost land’s gate
And bade me enter; but I answered “No!
I will pass on with my bold comrade Fate;
I have no tears to waste on thee–no time–
My strength I hoard for heights I hope to climb,
No friend art thou, for souls that would be great.”

Beyond

BEYOND

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It seemeth such a little way to me
Across to that strange country — the Beyond;
And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
The home of those of whom I am so fond,
They make it seem familiar and most dear,
As journeying friends bring distant regions near.

So close it lies, that when my sight is clear
I think I almost see the gleaming strand.
I know I feel those who have gone from here
Come near enough sometimes, to touch my hand.
I often think, but for our veilèd eyes,
We should find Heaven right round about us lies.

I cannot make it seem a day to dread,
When from this dear earth I shall journey out
To that still dearer country of the dead,
And join the lost ones, so long dreamed about.
I love this world, yet shall I love to go
And meet the friends who wait for me, I know.

I never stand above a bier and see
The seal of death set on some well-loved face
But that I think, ‘One more to welcome me,
When I shall cross the intervening space
Between this land and that one “over there”;
One more to make the strange Beyond seem fair.’

And so for me there is no sting of death,
And so the grave has lost its victory.
It is but crossing–with a bated breath,
And white, set face–a little strip of sea,
To find the loved ones waiting on the shore,
More beautiful, more precious than before.

Listen!

LISTEN!

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Whoever you are as you read this,
Whatever your trouble or grief,
I want you to know and to heed this:
The day draweth near with relief.

No sorrow, no woe is unending,
Though heaven seems voiceless and dumb;
So sure as your cry is ascending,
So surely an answer will come.

Whatever temptation is near you,
Whose eyes on this simple verse fall;
Remember good angels will hear you
And help you to stand, if you call.

Though stunned with despair I beseech you,
Whatever your losses, your need,
Believe, when these printed words reach you,
Believe you were born to succeed.

You are stronger, I tell you, this minute,
Than any unfortunate fate!
And the coveted prize – you can win it;
While life lasts ’tis never too late!

Optimism

roses1

Image from http://www.flickr.com

OPTIMISM

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I’m no reformer; for I see more light
Than darkness in the world; mine eyes are quick
To catch the first dim radiance of the dawn,
And slow to note the cloud that threatens storm.
The fragrance and the beauty of the rose
Delight me so, slight thought I give its thorn;
And the sweet music of the lark’s clear song,
Stays longer with me than the night hawk’s cry.
And e’en in this great throe of pain called Life,
I find a rapture linked with each despair,
Well worth the price of Anguish.  I detect
More good than evil in humanity.
Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes,
And men grow better as the world grows old.