Ella Wheeler Wilcox Quotes About Writing
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Our lives are songs; God write the words And we set them to music at pleasure; And the song grows glad, or sweet or sad, As we choose to fashion the measure.
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Went up from my feet to my head, With little chills after it stealing- And my hands got as numb as the dead. A moment, and then it was over: The diamond blazed up in my eyes, And I saw in the face of my lover A questioning, strange surprise. Maybe 'twas the scent of the flowers, That heavy with fragrance bloomed near, But I didn't feel natural for hours; It was odd now, wasn't it, dear? Write soon to your fortunate Clara Who has carried the prize away, And say you'll come on when I marry; I think it will happen in May.
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Just a little every day That's the way Children learn to read and write Bit by bit and mite by mite.
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