The Master Hand, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
It is something too strange to understand,
How all the chords on the instrument,
Whether sorr...
It is something too strange to understand,
How all the chords on the instrument,
Whether sorr...
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at...
I am troubled tonight with a curious pain;
It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,
N...
I own the charms of lovely Nature; still,
In human nature more delight I find.
Though sweet th...
It is a common fate--a woman's lot--
To waste on one the riches of her soul,
Who takes the wea...
When my blood flows calm as a purling river,
When my heart is asleep and my brain has sway,
I...
I will be true. Mad stars forsake their courses,
And led by reckless meteors, turn away
From ...
I have lived this life as a skeptic lives it,
I have said the sweetness was less than the gall
...
There is a courage, a majestic thing
That springs forth from the brow of pain, full-grown,
M...
The impulse of all love is to create.
God was so full of love, in his embrace
He clasped the n...
Whoever has begotten by pure love,
And came desired and welcome into life,
Is of immaculate c...
Day's sweetest moments are at dawn;
Refreshed by his long sleep, the Light
Kisses the languid...
There lies in the centre of each man's heart,
A longing and love for the good and pure;
And i...
In the midnight of darkness and terror,
When I would grope nearer to God,
With my back to a r...
No joy for which thy hungering heart has panted,
No hope it cherishes through waiting years,
...