The impulse of all love is to create.
    God was so full of love, in His embrace
    He clasped the empty nothingness of space,
And lo! the solar system! High in state
The mighty sun sat, so supreme and great
    With this same essence, one smile of its face
    Brought myriad forms of life forth; race on race
From insects up to men.
                                        Through love, not hate,
All that is grand in nature or in art
    Sprang into being. He who would build sublime
    And lasting works, to stand the test of time
Must inspiration draw from his full heart.
    And he who loveth widely, well and much,
    The secret holds of the true master touch.

Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler
Chicago : Belford, Clarke & Co, 1883.

Back to Poem Index