Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox (November 5, 1850 – October 30, 1919) was an American author and poet. Her works include Poems of Passion and Solitude, which contains the lines "Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone." Her autobiography, The Worlds and I, was published in 1918, a year before her death.
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Uncle Rob says:
Once the daisies all were white,
Till a baby
Ate his supper down one night,
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I'm sick of "musn'ts," said Dorothy D
Sick of musn'ts, as I can be
From early dawn till the close of dayI hear a musn't, and never a may
It's "you musn't lie there like a sleepy head,"And "you musn't sit up ...
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There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, Can circumvent or hinder or control The firm resolve of a determined soul
Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;
All things give way before it, soon or late
What obstacle can stay the ...
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Sit still,
I say, and dispense with heroics
I hurt your wrists
Well, you have hurt me
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Who knows the way to wonderland
Oh,
I know,
Oh,
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This little toe is hungry—This little toe is too,
This toe lies abed like a sleepy head,
And this toe cries "Boo-hoo
"This toe big and tall is the smartest of
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Only a blunder—a sad mistake;
All my own fault and mine alone
The saddest error a heart can make;
I was so young, or I would have known
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I am all tired out, said the mouth, with a pout,
I am all tired out with talk
Just wait, said the knee, till you're lame as you can be—And then have to walk—walk—walk
My work, said the hand, is the hardest in the land
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If all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me,
From sunny lands, and lands of cold,
Ah well
the harbor could not hold So many sails as there would be If all my ships came in from sea
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In grandmamma's kitchen, things got in a riot—The cream in a pot on the shelf,
Where everything always seemed peaceful and quiet,
Got whipped, for I heard it myself
And grandmamma said—such a queer thing to say,
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An infant wailing in nameless fear;
A shadow, perchance, in the quiet room,
Or the hum of an insect flying near,
Or the screech-owl's cry, in the outer gloom
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Oh, not for the great departed,
Who formed our country's laws,
And not for the
Who died in freedom's cause,
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Methought a great wind swept across the earth,
And all the toilers perished
Then I
Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth,
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The cunningest thing that a baby can
Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo;
When it hides its pink little face in its hands,
And crows, and shows that it
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Lightly they hold him and lightly they sway him—Soft as a pillow are somebody's arms
Down he goes slowly, ever so
Over the rim of the cradle they lay him—Baby's first journey is free from alarms
Baby is growing while Mama sings by-lo,
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Just a little every day—That's the way
Seeds in darkness swell and grow,
Tiny blades push through the snow;
Never any flower of
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