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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Little Queen

Do you remember the name I wore 
The old pet-name of Little Queen 
In the dear, dead days that are no more, 
The happiest days of our lives, I ween? 
For we loved with that passionate love of youth
That blesses but once with its perfect bliss, -
A love that, in spite of its trust and truth, 
Seems never to thrive, in a world like this.

I lived for you, and you lived for me; 
All was centred in Little Queen; 
And never a thought in our hearts had we
That strife or trouble could come between, 
What utter sinking of self it was! 
How little we cared for the world of men! 
For loves fair kingdom, and loves sweet laws, 
Were all of the world and life to us then.

But a love like ours was a challenge to fate; 
She rang down the curtains and shifted the scene; 
Yet sometimes now, when the day grows late, 
I can hear you calling for Little Queen; 
For a happy home and a busy life
Can never wholly crowd out our past; 
In the twilight pauses that come from strife, 
You will think of me while life shall last.

And however sweet the voice of fame
May sing to me of a great worlds praise, 
I shall long sometimes for the old pet-name
That you gave to me in the dear, dead days; 
And nothing the angel band can say, 
When I reach the shores of the great Unseen, 
Can please me so much as on that day
To hear your greeting of Little Queen.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
  1. The Birth of the Opal
  2. The Chain
  3. At Forty-Eight
  4. Artist and Man
  5. As by Fire

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