Is a very good way. And still,
There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
One over, one under the hill.You are treading the safe and the well-worn way
That the prudent choose each time;
And you think me reckless and rash to-day
Because I prefer to climb.
Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
We are not like peas in a pod,
Compelled to lie in a certain line,
Or else be scattered abroad.
‘Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,
If we all went just one way;
Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,
Though they lead apart to-day.
You like the shade, and I like the sun;
You like an even pace,
I like to mix with the crowd and run,
And then rest after the race.
I like danger, and storm and strife,
You like a peaceful time;
I like the passion and surge of life,
You like its gentle rhyme,
You like buttercups, dewy sweet,
And crocuses, framed in snow;
I like roses, born of the heat,
And the red carnation’s glow.
I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
For so it was written down;
We must follow our given paths to the end—
But I trust we shall meet—in town.
Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.
Filed under: Tennessee Tagged: | 9 million unique journeys, a million paths, Advice, American women poets, Ella Wheeler Cox, female poets of the 19th Century, good advice that you just cant take, two roads, your own path
WILL BE WORTHY OF IT
BY ELLA WHEELER COX.
I may not reach the heights I seek,
My untried strength may fail me ;
Or, half-way up the mountain peak
Fierce tempests may assail me.
But though that place I never gain,
Herein lies comfort for my pain–
I will be worthy of it.
Despite my earnest labor;
I may not triumph in success,
I may not grasp results that bless
The effort of my neighbor
But though my goal I never see
This thought shall always dwell with me–
I will be worthy of it.
The golden glory of Love’s light
May never fall on my way ;
My path may always lead through night,
Like some deserted by-way
But though life’s dearest joy I miss
There lies a nameless strength in this–
I will be worthy of it.
Pittsburg Sunday Press.
The Star of Zion [Charlotte, N.C.] 28 Feb. 1901: 7.