Among the "best sellers" in England--and proud are we to say it--are the volumes of poetry by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. According to an incredible report in the New York American, 44,891 copies of her poems were sold last year in Great Britain! We find in The Nautilus the following poem, apparently written since the disaster of the Titanic:
When in the even ways of life
The old world jogs along,
Our little colored flags we vaunt,
Each pipes his native song.
And jealousy, and greed and pride
Join their ungodly hands,
And this round lovely world divide
Into oppozing lands.
But let some crucial hour of pain
Sound from the tower of time,
Then consciousness of brotherhood
Wakes in each heart the latent good
And men become sublime.
No swarming insects of the night
Fly when the sun bursts in,
Self fades before love's radiant light,
And all the world is kin.
God, what a place this world would be
If that uplifting thought,
Born of some vast world accident,
Into our daily lives were blent,
And in each action wrought!
But while we let the old sins flock
Back to our hearts again,
In flame, and flood, and earthquake shock,
Thy voice must speak to men.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Current Literature 53 (Aug 1912): 232.
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